Where the mast drops low and the sailor seeks the shore,
Where the steps on the sand marks our uncertainty, the echo spreads our roars,
Where the winds are fierce and the undaunted sky spreads blue,
Where the fireflies lit the way, and take us deeper through the dew,
Where the few dried wood creaks and other bellow.
Where the ashes fly high, when beneath the fire catches willow,
Where the glasses touch the edges, and the rhythmic waves flow,
Where sheaths are futile as the distant stars drape us from above.
Where the breathe gets aligned and the pace gets calmed,
Where the pair of eyes stare the infinite, with the intertwined arms.
Where the aspirations levitate above, with the belief of turning them true.
Where the night grows so dark, that the only thing reflects, is the love we make in lieu.
Where we feel neither fear, nor loss, nor gain.
Where the living is ethereal,
Will you find me that place?