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The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat.

The sun was shining, the wind was blowing, the light and shadows were passing across the field, the birds were singing.

The murky figure twisted into itself as the fire engulfed it. It hissed and howled. Bits of burning shadow fluttered off in the wind.

Then something happened to me that opened all the windows and doors of my soul to the cool breezes of collective divine love.

In the evening, the wind blew gently and they retired into the dark night in profound silence.

You know, once you're dead, nothing smells bad anymore. Rotten eggs? No problem. Dead fish? Like a spring breeze.

Let the sea breeze sway five millenniums, each drop of teardrops as if said your dignity.

Quietly nourishing rain, the breeze blowing gently, then brown buds, so only the blink of an eye, they become yellow-green of the children .

The wind was still blowing gently, stars are beginning to embellishes the dark sky.