Beauty fades
and turns to dust.
All that is left
is the fragrance,
and drops of dew.
So, watching the
clouds come and go.
I told myself, why worry
about dust storms
blocking my paths.
When birdsong flocks
among the thickets.
And now, I know what
to do with the rest of spring.

After the bones
it does not matter.
I will not see the sun climb.
Or the moon at rest, again.
Even the death blossoms
will mean very little.
Now, I am an expert on the
time that I have left.
So, using each
of my living cells.
I choose wandering days.
With my eyes open
and senses buzzing.
There will be no silent
death for me.

I try to be in tune
with the streets.
One square-inch at a time.
Zigzagging around me.
The rise and fall
of a thousand births,
and even more goodbyes.
I just watch, forgetting the mind.
And the cloud-covered
sky disappears.

Crazy clouds
and everything was leaking.
A beautiful woman
was my refuge.
But it rained
and it rained again.
In a moment she was gone.
Now, I know what
I should keep in my heart.

In the blue sky of winter.
Some friends of loneliness
arrive at my door.
Asking me to join them
on their lonely path.
I offer a cup of coffee
and sun-drop words.
Telling them “Not today”.
For I have often faced
my lonely shadows.
And have known
a mind and body,
free from dust and pain.
Then the smiling sky
and singing birds,
are with me.

Declaring my spirit,
the spring sun rises slowly.
No longer vacant or vague.
I drink my coffee
and write my words.
All around me
just these moments.
That speak of life and death.
And everything in between.
​

The harsh voice disappears.
I decide, again today.
To be here, in the now.
Forget cold gray mornings
and charging forward.
I walk and savour the
colours of the city.
As life, mindfully,
slaps my soul.

Walking around
to such a melody.
Space in every step.
My old friend the ‘self’.
I get a déjâ vu.
Small steps,
until I slip.

So, when the day
was sufficiently quite.
And with your magical hands.
We recorded the marks.
Outside the dimly-lit streets
drove people into hiding.
Just a few spirits ventured
onto the broad avenues.
In such moments, a great
space is occupied.
Where few rarely come.
It feels almost like
emptiness and nothingness.
Like that which cannot be named.

A quite street.
Not easy to find in the city.
So, I decided to walk.
Not letting a single
moment blind me.
Every footstep
a footstep of gold.
Every image
silk from the sky.
It is easy here to
forget the mind.
And tell what is
good from bad.
A world forgotten.
Finally, we meet again.