Remotely anticipate.
Change the wings that harness flight.
Await the time to answer questions
Of unwanted graveyard spirits
And fate's Underlying disguise.

Slowly visualize the past.
Foresee truth to reckoning.
The slumber's finally been disturbed
To show scenes of passive living
By hampering details of life.

Slowly recall the mourning.
Mend the wings of lost grievings.
Wounds deprive the soul its feelings
And keeps it sacred in its arms
To free the life of empty minds.

Never knew
How to pray.
Fold hands...
Lower my head...
Utter words...
Never knew those.
My silence speaks
Not as prayer
But whimpers.

Whenever I see
Mothballs rolling over
To sublime inside
The ***** of
My closet,

I reach in
And touch its coarseness,
The roughness of size;

How come it withdrew
Itself to the world
By shrinking its
Speculations.

Strange though,
but a thought
Came to my mind:

Its state
Is similar
To a feat
Such as mine.

Lady, it is not me
Who keeps vivid
My partiality.

I envy the dark half
That covers your skin,
The shadow
That shapes
Your delicate form.

Have I seen you lately
Gliding passively
Around my dream
Or is it just
Another occurrence
To come by and let me
Cherish away eternity?

Calm my heart
And let my eyes
***** upon your mane.

Up in the heavens
Over this mortal plane...
Watch me glide with hovered wings.

I can feel the winds rush
Around this surreal fin
Of satin paper, wooden frame;
Lifting up my hollow skin.

Be my navigator.
The tides of the air restrict me.
Take my hand through the skies...
I can only fly by your gentle love strings.

Mom used to make me
Dry loaf of bread
In my rusted tin box,
Water,
To ease me the drought
Of schooling.

My age drew back
Decomposing tears.
Too late now
For nursery rhymes.

Have I been
Rich
Of heaven's currency
I would have bought
Your smile.

Too bad I've been
Poor and weary.
My heart can only
Lean and
Sigh.