"Why is the fading flower so sad?"
-Asked the tearful child...

Stretching our branches to prospect
spreads our roots in the pasts...

Endlessly looking
in the things that tend to end...

See through the butterfly of things—
each ending unfolds...

It shines in your eyes
before it is dulled with what...

Horizon is the
conundrum of terminus...

The sun is tick,
the moon is tack...

The past is meaningless
unless...

Where are the skies torn
I long to be dazzled by...

Now is what fastens
past and prospects together...

_Why clarity reflect us perfectly?
_ Because we are picture perfect...

Wood searches for light—
whether in the sky...