I want to be like the moon.
It’s accompany people who can’t sleep.
Embrace those tired soul that need to be kept.
She’s never afraid. She’s beautifully strong.
even when the dark cloud seemed to seize her,
She’s shine still.
A proof that darkness isn’t always about emptiness and anger.
Alone but still beautiful.
I want to be like the moon,
She’s the one who avoid people from being alone.
Nobody know what she’s doing behind that cloudy sky.
Maybe she’s crying,
Maybe she’s dying,
Or maybe she’s sleeping.
All that matter is,
She’s still pretty, extremelly breathtaking with her light.
Even without the stars around her.

Maybe the future
Is our maximum possibility
To build the bridges
Between what has been
And what insists to be.

It is where there is permission,
The chance in raw state,
The only place where ambiguities
Reside peacefully.

In the future I dissolve
The cuts from today
And if, from what has not yet been,
I think of what is now,
I make things differently from what I would
And life is no longer the same.

If the becoming
Is so substrate,
All that not yet exists,
But somehow arranges in-between my ideas,
Create parallel futures
Of such unreal things,
They mirror the world such as it is.

To realize what does not exist
Brings life to emptiness.
There is no "not be" -
It s extremelly unstable -
For thinking it is creating it.

The becoming is microexplosions
of the instability of the "not be"
That soon morphs into the most probable
And everything is just exactly as it could be.

Change precedes the existence.