Everlasting ( F P C D )
9:51 am on Mar 3, 2015...

It's not a day or a night that I would like,
Or an afternoon or a midnight that I would prefer...

Freedom is like writing sonnets
without having restrains...

Poetry is like love and life, and time, and death
and what not...

Today, I read a forum in Reddit
about a guy who kindly asked for help...

All these years, I hid between hays
like a needle awaiting to be found...

Is it feeling that you love me
Or knowing with certainty that you love me...

When empty
it means there’s nothing...

When I look at pictures with an old couple...
I can't help but think of us...

Where within awaits a whale
a splasher of water in the face...

Where has my imagination gone?
It used to be like bees...

Oh saintly night,
you, where the moon strolls by...