If one could forgive  .  .  .
Truly see love flaws in each,
  .  .  .  What flowers can be.

In a room where Heaven kisses the Earth
I listen to a Saint speak of Compassion
A Rainbow arches gracefully in the distance
Visions of flowers before me
Hearts open up and allow Love in to their lives again.

Spring is going to back
Silently dropping  the purple petals  
Bored noon,  
The melancholy flute's of Shepherd
Seeking the missing spring

Roll up,
Roll around the idle noon
Random impulsive air
Bunch of dark clouds at the sky
Pensive
Seem illusion of that known
Pied crested Cuckoo

Beyond the horizon,  
The eyes looking for
Sounds (Tip Tip) of the sudden drops of rain,
On the leaves of Quail,
Washing
Differentiation of mind

On the leaves of Arum,
Ever Keeps as the containers
Integrating
Concentrating 
Compiling of soul 

Weird one wrapped in mystery
Mind
Life
Seasons

Coming up the lyrics of rain
Fusion with thy mystic music
Afternoon has grown heavier  
How my mind moves!

Chased away birds returning home
The heart is rapidly expanded
Rain continues to move around
Nature demands a new ground

Looping, hearing of the same song
Shadows filling with the feelings
Perhaps this change of thy
Bound to sketch
A new face of impression

I’m a lone wolf
howling in the woods
drawn into darkness
blinded by mere mysteries
I am that I am
because you are of what you made me
you’ve dispersed me into wilderness
you’ve made my soul as hollow
as a ill-treated tree of life
you are my weakness
you are joy
you are a demon implanted in me
I’m somewhere between psychotic and ironic
misunderstood by defiants ...
sometimes I don’t relate to my thoughts, my skin, my walk, and smile
sometimes I don’t know freedom;
is it reluctant obedience towards a fiend or constant countless breaths of a new life?
I’m not death
for I live in the presence of life
you were almost the death of me
but my artistry became the saviour -
the saviour of my soul, my mind, my heart
I’m a lone wolf
howling in the woods
where darkness was drawn to light.

Not every honest thought
is full of truth.
Careful what comes out
in times of heat.
For honest thoughts can sear
a face with tears.
But truth will serve
and make a union sweet.

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.