My writings are in a wet paper My morning starts on a floating wave My memory in a missing time Everything uncertain and unclear All the de-petaled flowers of yesterday Yet I am forced to live into which I am betrayed Following a journey for a war of life. Being a conqueror When I return YOU (life) are excited for another death. Futile attempt, futile ego. I deceive myself sincerely knowing much about YOU But manage carefully not to know YOU. YOU cling To the murderous innocency of the childβs smile To the unbearable softness of the winter morning sun To the softest violence of the motherβs love To the invisible darkness of the no-moon night To the sharp look of the eye To the vapors of a warm kiss on the fore head Still much remain unsaid and untouched Perhaps any say about YOU is unsay able And all unsayables are the only sayings of you Perhaps you are not available when I am there But available when I am not there YOURS The Seeker.