In any second our wings portion death and life.
We are equals as we are together...

Sounds vibrate to silence,
waves to stillness...

Wheel marks
on the mirage...

To camouflage their
smeared hands they deliquesce in...

What if we won’t wake
for we are fugitives of...

To be or not to be,
the throat of an hourglass...

Distance and love are opposite,
space and hearts...

As much as personal, love
is also impersonal...

pictures,
the cliché of memories...

I always carried my death, living.
My memories all were...

There are no impediments
in the nature of true minds...

Whatever we decide and do
forever would change and alter the world...