Let yourself burn, let yourself be
Eaten away by the darkness you once preyed on,
Till all that's left is a puddle of wax (tears) on the plate (bed).

It's better to give out rather than to give in,
To cry and rage and scream and after that to lie exhausted.

Bloom like the rose after, coat in red and thorns sharper,
Unrelenting but its beauty brings comfort to eyes of lovers,
Rush not the pain of burning and blooming. Feel.
Not because you're weak but because you are stronger after.

Withered flowers reminds us that
Withering is fine.
Waters --in any shape they are--
Will bring the colors of us again.

Tell me that I’ll pull through,
Or I’m a little bit feel down.
For you it’s just a trifle,
And for me it’ll give a strength crown.

I'll know there's someone believes in me
I'll just hear, that he's somewhere.
Even it’s not true, doesn’t matter.
Tell lies! I really don’t care!

Tell me that I’ll overcome,
That my spirit is really strong.
But don’t pry into my soul.
It’s sealed up with black wax for long.

It shouldn’t be touched soever,
It’s only the time for its rest.
Tell me that I’ll pull through.
Tell me something! I want to be confessed!

How could I shield myself from the words
that lift me into the highest lowness?
Dearly beloved, raw openness,
the source of my grace and imperfection.

I feel strangely weightless
when my precognition
whispers to me about my possible future.
I hush all my names,
they’re not statues carved
by the thoughts of others.

I watch people drift in and out,
I touch the tree leaves in the cold wind.
Looking tenderly into the eyes of black ravens
I just try to see what they see.

I don’t fear the dark,
the primal womb that gives light
and birth to worlds spread across space.
Losing someone I love is my only fear.
Death comes uninvited, in its own time.

Love is my helpless, naked truth.
My moral compass still works
in my body.
At night, I find sleep and rest.
In light, the warmth,
and the souls of others.

I see the tired hearts
I find solace, looking into the light.
The body brings fleeting fullness.
I gather the crumbs of mystery,
expecting nothing,
just enough to find my dignity
and make peace with the unreachable.