Wearing songdance
Long time ago
Weaving a picture
Motion-slow

Grasping the nature
Of the unknown
Stumbling, falling
On the hard floor

Words, what are they?
Abstract objects in mind?
Fears? Seem so heavy,
But are rarely right.

Strange debates
One perceives
But it depends
On what one believes

Once projection
Takes over one's mind,
Chains reaction
Makes one real blind

And disconnected
In the abyss
May one still be able
To call life a bliss

Beauty may differ
In stranger's view
Mountains may move

If love is true.