More, once more,
Can you identify these two trees standing nobly in the breeze

where these grasses grow uphill
Is this the place where they met?

Again,and again,
why these puzzles blocked our vision
and disappeared into the shadows ,
Those virtual meetings abandoned by the persecuted

Breathe, a long breath,
The mirror tells us we will all get through this.

We will get through the sleepless nights,
and all the internal fights,
when the world hits us with all its might.
Believe it or not, the day seems right.

Breathe breathe, a long breath,
The wall bounces, but we will get through this.

Nobody could define what anxieties are,
look, when the window opens,
pale faces and red eyes clarify it
Shall we meet in the unmarked strip of light?

Five, Three, One!
Four, Two, Nought…
and breathe breathe, a long breath

Gray gray, rainy day,
Could a cup of coffee to bright up our day?

Check check please
when tears clear up and rain stops.
There be confetti in the sky,
there be cleaner blood,
crisp wind and salt in the air.

There be long walks
through the old park,
cardboard lots of treasure
and a peaceful coffee time,
after the rain

Would someone hear a whisper talking?
“Let’s count one moment of peace together,
only between us…”
He breathes into Lydia’s ear until her soul
passes on his fragrance.

He is her soul, she knew it.
And she wouldn't escape his magic spells,
But why would any soul in this world
want to escape from?
When the lunar night reaches to the sky
They fled to an ecstasy screen, together.

She asks him:
“Is everyone a shadow of the Beloved?
Yes, it is.”  He carved an ‘L’ shape on an old tree
Would our seeking be where our moon is seeking?
Could our words be lunar Lydia’ words?

Aren't there enough questions to end with a silence?
Where it leads to the core of our lives.

Isn't all your talk worthless?
Lydia whispered to him,  compare our whispers
to the Beloved.

Has the moon sharing kisses all over her white skirt?
The wings of the clouds landing in every North and South,
Was her the tears of the universe,
These are the stars landing on her eyes,
Who could not forget  every start and every goodbye.

In a while it will pass,
You are all special,
and when the Sun will arise,
For new beginnings are always in the way of life.
And universe tears were
“human condition,” and now,
we searched what were worth life,
If we are all don’t belong here.

When stars appear in the sky,
under a dark late night,
Could you hear a dialog between Caterpillar and Butterfly?

Caterpillar: "Aren’t you too beautiful for me,
fly away and find someone as beauty as you.” 


Butterfly: "I will not leave you,
you are as beautiful as me."

Raised his voice, Butterfly looked into Caterpillar’s eyes:
“Why did I ever lose you?
Although they say everything has an end,
nothing will last,
Nothing is meaningful,
except think about the past....”

Caterpillar replied to him with a melancholy tone:
“why is the world moving fast?
Shall we live in the moment like they say...
Live in the moment - it'll be best to stay.”


They are hugging and chanting on a giant leaf—
Whose images are kept in store?
By memory, we are all alone. 

And if rhyme is outmoded. 
Shall I transform it to you, 
re-grow.
Past is in the future 
where it converts to the present,
with you...

Compassion is the basis of morality.” 
― Arthur Schopenhauer

I.
Saying bye-bye, a farewell symphony
To someone you loved

Saying bye-bye, a bitter experience
To something you believed.

II.
Likewise, restrained tears at a departure hall;
As if listening to a movement of the finales
Of a fantastic life symphony

His eyes were drifting away;
Her appearance was pale and fatigued.
When the last movement ended
They hugged,
it was the last time they met up.

III.
Morals or control, what is it?
Wasn't it odd to enjoy the voice of central controlled squads?
And what is the best time to cry for nationalist values?

Morals or domain? where does it exit?
Without realising the truth turns to sinner .
Why are many leaders leading the flocks?
Although, he and she never practiced what they preached.

Morals or law, who is in charge?
Without guilt,  cast the first stone.
Why are those sorrows hidden in their hearts
hence, who gets offended when its upon us?

VI
Saying bye-bye, morals,
A symphony of never finished music scores,
Will they just discover
Once all is said and done 

And was that a successful concert?
were those favourite movement
All along.