I heard the silence as the windshed in the morning blew the blades of light over the mist
“Morning becomes so brittle, when slowly we put each other dream records that are not finished we explore”
“This dusk, deserted down from the top of the hill memories carry a memory of the old past dwelling on the shoots of the trees longing”
“I'm looking for the rest of the rain last night. maybe in between the grains can still find a piece of memories that I had left”
“if the dusk is like a dock, how I want to be anchored so tired from my long trip”
“Then the dusk cools the loneliness, about the blacks like the night-birds that peck at moonlight rays”
“And morning reveals the universe with the rays of light. Probably also the prayers of sincerity that manifest dew on the tops of firs”
