Everytime I feel the building tears
derive from my eyes...
The rain is the tears of the Angels, knowing...
The lightning is God's wrath that He will bestow...
What is this feeling?
Separating me from you...
I Wonder... (Huitain)
Huitain has 8 lines. Each line has 8 syllables...
Being born in the 50's
not long after the war...
Why does it always have to be
With prophets of the modern age...
It is black, darkness, a sickness deep inside
There is no hope, no promise, just empty despair...
I Believe In God.
Some people ask me why...
They say that things are meant to be
But that sounds like an easy way out...
I once tried to imagine
An inconceivable facade...
Gentle grassland stretches wide,
All agriculture richly untainted...
Our savior was ourselves
we died for our sins...