Those black dots I see
On the white canvas
they are nothing
but the impressions,
the impressions of all those moments i suffered
All those times when it all seemed too dark
But
Whenever I see that empty white space
I wonder,
how after every black dot there is a vast gap?
i wonder
How is it so perfectly arranged?
Well,
maybe that's the secret of life
maybe that's how the magic works
I know,
there will be more black dots
but i also know there will be that white space in between
the space in which i love
the space in which i grow
the space in which i live.........
On the white canvas
they are nothing
but the impressions,
the impressions of all those moments i suffered
All those times when it all seemed too dark
But
Whenever I see that empty white space
I wonder,
how after every black dot there is a vast gap?
i wonder
How is it so perfectly arranged?
Well,
maybe that's the secret of life
maybe that's how the magic works
I know,
there will be more black dots
but i also know there will be that white space in between
the space in which i love
the space in which i grow
the space in which i live.........