Two hands are knitting time
perpetually...

Living for the end
while doing everything...

To be all,
reducing to null...

Birth is the first chip on our windshield,
after...

They remain distant
that is the reason they could...

Time is pulsating
all things to end, yet itself...

When we are in love
we are two fluttering wings...

"Now." is the current
not floating with the river...

_ The shrub is gone
the roots are ruthlessly rotted...

Everything is mounting.
Everything is rising...

The urge of telling
the biggest tales even when...

I've lost all these years
for I am not going to...