At life closing,
were you in peace...

Your theme will
not endure the momentous...

Do not unveil the
wound of errors...

Cannot undo, the
headless leap of faith...

Mauve detachment;
I wanted a short placenta...

A hard drink of
heartache, and you blink...

You had big
violence in your bones...

You were dressed up
to burn. Tears had memory...

Where blue meets the
red, I will bring moon to cross...

Returning to past
you tend to remain all mum...

Retrieve me, by my
voice, to stay at the pause...

Why Buddha waits for
Yasodhra, to become sane...