When Water Is Still Like A Mirror

O, Happy The Soul That Saw Its Own Faults.

Every Bird Will Follow It's Specie.

‎there Is A Place Where Voices Sing Your Beauty, A Place Where Every Breath Carves Your Image In My Soul.

We Love That S Why Life Is Full Of So Many Wonderful Gifts.

In The Slaughterhouse Of Love, They Kill Only The Best, None Of The Weak Or Deformed. Don't Run Away From This Dying. Whoever's Not Killed For Love Is Dead Meat.