Who am I to want spring, to desire love, to breathe something that ain't never for me ?
One must know the heart that keeps a ring to the door to his own bliss .
In the dark is your soul until you start to feel the plants feelings !
When the road is empty and only the steps of my feet knows the path to the garden .
Even the mirror and green plant are a soft breath of air !
My hands has no feelings to touch a soul !
I must not love because my heart can't .
- A. A. Popovici,