Cloudy water does not clear by stirring it. A cloudy sky does.

Arms clasped around them, the knees support my forehead and I don't know why so warm the eyes of the sky seem and so deep... they tell me to sleep... I am not yet born, a bird waiting for its flight...

When the world is ran by greed, even the sky lessens...

We vibrate all souls of existence – clay and water pitchers with mouth, with eyes towards the skies.

A soul is a water changing its freshness and depth according to the soul that drinks it.

Sad soul that which meets only tears in love; sad the flowerless tree with no sky with peace rains; sad the bird that shall never find its offspring.