Sorrow has settled in between your beautiful eyes,
The night's nested in your black hair,
And your glassy eyes shine like blue stars.

Be with me,
Be with me for when we are together the wind carries away my loneliness,
The moon smiles,
The sun shines,
The leaves swirl in the wind,
The birds sing,
The flowers bloom,
The soil smells of morning rain,
Be with me.

Spring fluttered out of my hands and disappeared,
In my room, I burn from loneliness,
Within my heart, an ice flower has sprouted.

poem

The universe,
every cloud,
every flower,
every beautiful and ugly thing,
Want you to live your own life,
To carve your own path,
Even your ancestors
Want you to walk the path of freedom.

Please reader, hear my plea
and let go of my poems and me,
I can no longer play the lyre
For my situations' oh so dire,
These are matters of the mind,
The like of which, I must say,
I've seen nothing of the kind.
So heed my words and leave today,
For this old jester's pen has dried,
His tears have gone unseen,
And in his heart he has demeaned
Each and every word he's tried
To write with a once ardent heart,
From all of which he must depart.

Would my grave be
deeper than my wounds?

Would the warmth of the morning sun
still reach my rotten body?

Would Icarus, my bird, fly to the sun looking for me
Is my selfish death going to cost him his wings, too?

Would the worms weep when
they ******* tormented flesh?