When stars were still the compass, and snow haven’t melt.
far back to the past, where an innocence still was an innocence.
Far back to the past, where I could touch the words with my very fingers, felt them in my chest, locked them before my lips, wrote them in the air.
when nothingness was so much appreciated, and sounds were so little around I could hear my lungs breathing.
Far back to the past far back to the past, when eyes were closed, and dreams were so believable, as if I could chant spell on night and made it my servant.
That’s when things have just about to end, the rest haven’t begun. to rewind nor forward are not within my reach to ask, far back to the past..
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