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

Amidst essential dreams
and delicate dilemmas...

Heavier today than yesterday
but not as light as I dream...

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

Seeing and feeling
through the eyes...

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

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

The rain hits
hard and fast...

Here it comes,
this is the daybreak...

A dew droplet
rolls down a leaf as...

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

Under a pale glass moon
the bones of Christ...