It was deep inside the wound of that tramp
that I learned to be a gentleman...
Ah writing
It’s like fire burning wood...
Who is God? Where is God? What is God? We ask
Then, we think that this is an impossible task...
Wish you could see me
for who I am...
The hum of a tractor across the
ditch. I can't see it, only hear it...
I wonder what it would be like to have
wings - would they grow from this grief...
_Why does the dead fish still poke on the unbitten...
years after, where the bait and the fish himself...
We must switch
the focal point of our attention from...
The awe of turning old,
winds your blooms away...
Seeker:
_Master! teach me you...
A mirror stranger,
a parallel line in motion...
We built our coffin from the planks of our habits.
We have no choice but to be obedient to our death...