Going out
going in...

We sculpt
because we are looking for perfection...

I am
as old as...

Parallels are delusion
otherwise, roads were endless...

Just for an aeon
I am left, in this moment...

How heavy and how
impatient is the river...

The darkness in me
is as vacant as I am...

At last
my bloom is withering...

Last petal on a rose,
last rose on the season's bough...

I picked the apple,
took a bite, crushed in between...

Ephemeral things
are burning so, in search of...

I have fought a good fight and crashed.
I have fought for IT...