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

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

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

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

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

Resolving past in future
that is why...

I was looking for heroes
not knowing that there are no heroes...

All my desires, my longing
to reach inside you...

I am the poet of the true reality—
not the shared dream, communal illusion...

For all time,
the rain was pouring—yet I stayed dry...

The word
Like a genre or species...

Just in your eyes
is the safe haven...