Our nakedness is not as deluding as our attires.
Love is a nude self-recognition...

Absolute
is the silence of a canvas...

Tree's inquest is glow
whether in the sunny skies...

Justice is a balance, an equation of something
as deep as our souls...

Oh, the tiniest flower!
lost in the vastness...

Between madness and sanity
between past and prospect...

Engrossed in whiteness
rolling down from snow fall to...

He serenades still
there under the window of...

Do you remember our dawn
where awareness first...

The waltz of beauty
and the recognition of...

Whiteness would mutate
though never ceases away...

These shoddy people
they all are nothing but ears...