When the wind
at its hasty ingress...

You are so quiet
but your silence is quite loud...

Is transparency a soul,
something all the clear things share...

Black man sings:
Compering to the way you moving your booty my baby...

The penumbra of Illumination.
The echo of birds’ footsteps in silence...

Breeze,
the cool bed-sheet of white dreams...

There was always me loving you
no past, no future...

You the killer of my father.
You the pain...

The awe
of wrinkles...

Everything is running,
seemingly towards somewhere...

If you kill the messenger
The message forever...

Where has the butterfly winged?
Where has the flower gone...