I missed the heartbeats for a vessel of stars,
while death was always near, circling the house.
The network of sorrow, beams to world.
Can symmetry of pain provide a plank for the sinking mind?
I cannot hold the curling smoke of a tainted fact.
The fear, the anxiety, empowers the animal look.
An uncovered seed sprouting into
tiny roots on my hand starts a conspiracy.
People talk about the meditation, and senile body shrinks.
There is a song above the sorrow and freedom
from the assassination of ideologies. Hold my arm!
