by Arthur Khachatryan
Journey through the enchantment of life and the dreaminess of our experiences. It is blunt and raw yet beautiful and captivating twisting and churning with sorrow, joy, love and loss as it echoes the voices of our world through one man's heart.
Without love I am a shattered mirror
Looking for a way to fit within myself
Resolution of my image never emanates
From the icy walls that imprison me.
Without love I am living but dead
Like a rose that has just been plucked
From the roots that justified its beauty
So am I, dead, but in living continuity.