The more it is bruised
the more iridescent it...

It would always shine
before it is blurred with what...

In the middle of night I called her.
In the middle of the nightmare of daylight...

Liberty is not a hymn or an anthem,
a slogan...

He serenades still
there under the window of...

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

Between madness and sanity
between past and prospect...

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

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

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

Absolute
is the silence of a canvas...

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