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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=491706" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>One Saturday Morning At The Mountain Top Inside The House</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">it is raining outside<br>it is the habitualness of the image that flows inside us<br>green grass and rolling hills and clouds a drifting<br>the sound of rain like footsteps of children playing under the shower from heaven<br>i sit upon a chair looking outside<br>i am not thinking about anything simply watching the rain<br>the green grass <br>the trees the sea and the horizon that extends more than what my eyes can see<br>more than what i can contain<br>this empty bowl with a wide mouth open<br>this hollowness that cannot speak because it does not have the exact words<br>to say </div><div style="margin:10px 0">it seems to me that the correct existence that fills this void is nothing <br>but the silence of the trees, the grass, the hills and the far away seas</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=491706" data-title="One Saturday Morning At The Mountain Top Inside The House de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="it is raining outside
it is the habitualness of the image that flows inside us
green grass and rolling hills and clouds a drifting
the sound of rain like footsteps of children playing under the shower from heaven
i sit upon a chair looking outside..."></div>
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