My heart has turned into a stone some rocks hit against and break to flow in the river but still desire to see the seedling sprouting is alive Hope to hear melodious songs from birds is active and dreams of fragrance from the flowers yet remains...
Someone has plunged his sword into intestine of the wasteland Earth and yet, in these threatening and roaring clouds, the desire for showering compassion is still alive. Hope from the heartless earth to grow passionate sensitivity is still active. Appeal to the dead sky to rain the life-force yet remains...
There is no place for platonic love now What is Love? But just a deal an equation in Mathematics or a computer program flowing chemicals of a few organic compounds In spread of the mud, Hope to lotus blossom yet remains...
