Amidst essential dreams
and delicate dilemmas...

When we have become
migratory birds, blind lemmings...

In fading bloody embers
I carve my name...

Peering down through cloud wisps,
God, sitting on a stool next to...

Alone in a room
with a deja-view...

Here it comes,
this is the daybreak...

Seeing and feeling
through the eyes...

A dew droplet
rolls down a leaf as...

The past is consuming my future,
it eclipses my present in hollow spaces...

The rain hits
hard and fast...

At three o'clock in the morning
when phantom wolves are coming...

There is no God or devil
battling for my mortal soul...