Before I leave, I will give you my gift
to perceive the human anguish.
Time has passed like a snake noiselessly,
skipping the years I have grieved.
The solace of harvesting the dreams was thin.
A terrible shadow of a futile creation.
Hopes always lied hollowed by anesthesia of truth.
A surrogate womb trims the love.
My garden was always green.
Howling was generating the heat.
