It’s a winter late noon,
Is it a town or a village?
Or, just a soft earthen box?
Soon everything is about to be wrapped by the twilight.
Birds are returning home.
And, I am here with my sum up anguish.
Under the grey carpet sky,
Trying to organize some puzzled thoughts,
scattered on my rainbow surface.
Thinking about the slash I once bore.
I remember the merciless soil has just smashed my flesh!
I often feel the rustling sound of human feet.
But no one is there to rescue me.
I am circling, circling…
around the emptiness!
Remembering my lost verses.
Embraced by the haziness.
Where am I?
Suddenly,
I hear the chirping sound of a bird.
Has arranged a cozy seat on my window.
Its emerald feathers are layered with endearment.
And the crystal eyes carry blessings.
I wonder is it a bird from paradise!

I was always travelling on a cloud at the very last moment of my pink imagination.
I didn’t look up at the golden sky though I
took shelter in her arms.
I saw the thin ribbon like rail lines;
Seems like they have ended their journey and they used to meet together at a vague point.
Finally, I returned to my own mythical orbit.
And, found my lost verses for God and heard my stubborn echoes.