I look at my thoughts like clouds: there is an idea that I stop, and another that escapes me.
We usually define reality as an independent fact of our will and thought as something intimate that happens to us, not real or illusory.
However, our thoughts stain our reality, and these become our way of looking and acting.
I will wait for a sweeter achievement.
One only among many words.
I will wake up cheated.
Where the mind is stuck.
Behind the shield of grief.
I almost feel it's true.
It seems to be only pain.
It is held in the soul.
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