All these roads are the resultants
of the lashings...
How unlimited
we are, limiting ourselves...
Never say a lie
because other can see you but you can't...
Look how those branches
of trees are nestling within...
Those who've beavered hard
to brush me away by their brooms...
So deep in my ears
there is a song...
An unbitten apple
is the apple that is dined by its own worms...
Are the trees just acting out their loneliness,
their separation from the fire...
She always voices
the truth in light to anoint...
Ticktock-ticktock
thus said the mockingbird of a clock...
Thus said the hero,
"I invite you all to fire...
Beauty is the trait
of soul and the flower is...