My pen is not flowing wet;
it rather seems emotionless dry!
The lost feelings;
mass of confusion –
it seems like walking through a thick
mass of conifers
up in mountain
after mountain
no sight…
…just hollow emptiness…
Where to begin?
Where to begin?
A pond so dark as
my running mind –
deepness, blackness,
few stars light the path;
and only silence blows
through my figure
of lost hope.
…red, orange, yellow flames
blow across the thick
mass of conifers
up on mountain top
after mountain top –
there blows the raging silence,
the lost freedom –
stuck in a
prison of…
…empty desire! !
