Untold

Poem

He was gentle and so cruel,
like a mountain stream so dual,
knowing love and hate were real…

She lived a life that’s full of joy,
and excitement bright as day,
as endless as a never-ending ray…

He met her and she met him,
and they were both about to run
in the gaze of summer mighty sun…

But they stopped, and looked around,
call it magic, God, fate, or pure sound,

and a poem was to be born…
a stream of words, a flow of sighs,
but I forgot my thoughts, forgive,
it’s you to bring the wheres and whys.

more by GEORGI DIMITROV-KARLOVSKI

photograph by Sebastian Pichler

Image Curve’s Manifesto