Time is heartless but
its claws are not as lengthened...

We appreciate
what we have had right after...

We keep on going
for we are not really...

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

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

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

At last
my bloom is withering...

Just a touch of death
is what sometimes bring us back...

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

In the even scales
of fangs there are no mercy...

How heavy and how
impatient is the river...

Separation is
the only way we prevail...