Before I die,
I'd want to leave the dead womb
and see the Light,
and feel Its warmth.

Before I die,
I'd like to know how it is
to be alive
for a day or even an hour.

Before I die
I'd want to be born
and feel the life blooming inside me
like a flower.

Who knows everything? No, not me.
I am just a shadow of a tree.
I am just a feather on the wind.
I am just a pebble on a beach.

Who knows all the answers? No, not me.
I am but a fleeting memory.
I am nothing more than just a dream.
Juat a drop of water in the sea.

Who knows why we're here? No, not me.
I'm the last to know, the last to ask.  
I am just a word stuck in a mouth.
I am just a silence of the  grass.

Sunday morning.
A fragrant storm  
in a coffee cup.

I am the best thing
that ever happened to

me.

Sadly not, I won't be here tomorrow,
I'll be somewhere else, someone else.
though I'm not talking about different life,
and I'm not talking about same old death.

I am talking about time that is timeless.
I am talking about placeless place.
About some kind of Hell-free Heaven,
some kind of greener grass Universe.

I'm not talking about having a choice,
or some signs of hope that'd be showing,
but about clocks like broken toys,
and maps like some nursery drawings.

I am packing my stuff - it's not easy:
been unpacking things my whole life.
Feels like turning the course of dry river,
or the blood painted hands of  time.

**** the happiness, **** the sorrow,
no more heartful and dreadful a-roving.
Blind man's shadow - my guide I will follow.
Only future me knows where I'm going.

Not my favourite,
but the only subject
I am still reviewing
since I left school.
Long time ago.
Yesterday.

Have you forgiven them yet?

The moon,
for it gives you out no secrets.

The stars,
for their beauty
which often hurts your eyes.

The sun,
for it never dies, unlike us.

The dead,
for their silent smile.

Have you forgiven them yet?
I ask

myself.