cryptocurrency, to the moon and back again, while i was asleep.

trying to convey, some deep empathic idea, transcending conscious.

we must not forget, value has no form yet flows, from those who create. from those who create, life is given in return, without which is death. without which is death, within which is life for thieves,

art is an archway, of stones on shimmering waves, constantly moving.

three five three, mathematical, forms of phi.

simple words, to render a wound, bleeding seeds.

who lives here, just to die again, lost purpose.

who am I often wondered. steemit op sparked a lost ember. to use words in a simple way. the beauty of haiku to me seemed a mystery worth exploring. faced with the reality of the world. who am I but the

infinite space here, so they say so they think, locked in hidden realms.

my story of life, started at the end of one, with pain i cried out.

when the blade drips dry, the silence is given life, reincarnated.

value for value, say the scales of justice now, steemit will prevail.

seven five seven in a confused and lost world the keys to heaven