Concrete · Road


We don’t know how to write in it.
We just take the pages one by one,
planning each step carefully,
not to miss anything by mistake.
Seasons come, seasons go,
and we run out of ink.

Suddenly we find ourselves
trapped in the middle of the page,
autumn is here, with its dry leaves.
It’s not that we’ve lost our way,
but words have simply
become meaningless.

We look up and the sun is shining
like it always did,
while the clouds gently roll
on the horizon.
Lord, could You spare a moment,
and come down here?

Romanian version


3 thoughts on “Stuck

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s