A thorn has taken my point of view
Hurting to even open my eye to appreciate this drawn scenery,
I keep wondering wether it would be simply easier to crush it,
But even then, the thorn wouldn't be out, no ?
Shut off, it won't bother me anymore.

~ Umi

In the depths of our mind,
Lie nightmares ever so undreamed,
Waiting to shift into the imagined reality.

~ Umi

The demon who had but one to relate to,
Was labled as a monster by the one it adored,
For, envy already had consumed its heart,
An endless downward spiral,
Of uninspirational melancholy.

~ Umi

Undecided is,
The decision of a name,
Then, it must be blank.

~ Umi

From among the mountains,
A road to climb beyond the heavens above, is starlit,
A bridge of stars connects the sky, where no darkening clouds even dare to reach this scenery, yet my vision is clouded, for I cannot grasp the events of what is occuring undearneath me,
If this earth were to shake I am sure I would be unaware of it,
Until I were to step down from this wondrous dream of an illusion without any pain or hardship, a mirage of a lifeless landscape,
Air so thin it takes your breath, silently, relentlessly,
Trees embrace the mountainside alike a span of green sleeves,
I am sure, the noise of life is what is embracing me once I am at the lowest point, as the scent of blooming flowers spreads throughout the land, though the sunshine might be taken away by the sky if I stay,
So I chose a life in isolation, taking my own voice to watch the prideful light of the morning glow warm my lonesome skin,
Unheard and unseen by anyone, only because of the fear;
That rainclouds could wash away what little happiness I fathom,
Yet, the price for such foolishness deemed itself too high,
As I lost vision, of what else is beautiful,
The cycle of life.

~ Umi

The prideful sun sets,
As life returns to the desert.
Harsh heat is fleeting.

~ Umi

A clear trail left in trance is how I shall form words,
Elegantly, majestically casting them onto a blank paper, focused on creating poetry, a time recording friend has gone missing,
Now the lonely sound of my scratching against the thin paper, lead by transience of its decay is the only sound we can hear.
What once was a world to create fantasy has drowned, black as ink into the darkness of a never ending tale, time and time again,
As if to hold on to embers, scared to lose all light when the last one goes out, for a cold, uninspired, spiriling dark of ones mind,
With the mission to accompany her throughout each and every writing as it unfurls, comes to life and simply blossoms in pride,
As I see a smile cast on her face, the determination to keep going alightens a flame, but unceartenty overcomes my weakened body,
When the trace of my mark begins to fade, I wonder how long it will be, until there is nothing more to say, do or think about,
Even if this dreamlike tale of endless, ongoing poetry were never to end or falter, never to be distorted nor interrupted;
Even if you don't have to die in a dream,
one is bound to wake up sooner or later,
As a tired hand carelessly, roughly, lays me down,
I wonder how many poems one can write,
Before running out of the ink of the mind.

~ Umi