Breeze,
the cool bed-sheet of white dreams...

There was always me loving you
no past, no future...

You the killer of my father.
You the pain...

The awe
of wrinkles...

Everything is running,
seemingly towards somewhere...

If you kill the messenger
The message forever...

Where has the butterfly winged?
Where has the flower gone...

They choose gutless ones
for they could...

God is dead,
thus Zarathustra said...

To P&Q
Loneliness...

The penumbra of Illumination.
The echo of birds’ footsteps in silence...

A samurai's sword
slays the inner foes before...