Becoming musical
at the end time...

The wind was black
and I wanted to make an eye contact...

A cherry legacy
and the orange pick...

The pungent smoke.
Someone was burning...

Blending with the light,
as ancients did...

When,
the scream ends, you start...

After carbon dating
you will find...

Invasion was thin
like a feather's fall...

Unlocking,
the silver knife...

It was oneness,
which brought my poetry...

The nectar,
coming from nowhere...

Often,
I will return to myself...