Stigmata stinging like frosted icicle
burning passion subdued into cupped hands...

To the Gods we go
Bamboo flutes sweet melody...

The immense beauty
stunning views celebrated...

Inhale, Exhale
Inner peace...

Delicate white blankets suffocating,
crushing breaths against empty stone...

Stalking through illuminated streets,
Advance cloaked amount shadows...

Masquerades concealing a multitude of elegant...
tainted frost coved windows which you'll never see...

Splashes
Ominous looking clouds...

Secrets held inside,
Forbidden passion...

Blood, tears
Screams of agony...

I wonder in hope,
truth to be disclose...

Take my hand
And let's walk this road together...