You are speaking and
bubbles spring out of your mouth...

Life is a disease
that we must recover from...

In where would skies rive?
I am ardent to behold...

The torn hearts of
those who fight for right is why...

Time is the throb of
our questions in the silence...

You must want something
really hard to become...

Behind the curtains
of death, distance, and desire...

Everything goes with
the flows, but the echo of...

_Why must we achieve timelessness through time?
_ For the essence is torn...

It was in the stage
between moments and the moon...

Darkness like mirrors
echoes all our intentions...

Butterflies hover
over blooms while blooms hover...