Reading the innocence of leaves, a tree, yellow stars,
I was always glad of new birth and another death.
Cessation did not repeat itself.
I hold the nightmare, hypnotized.
Pride without flame, ending in smoke,
until you come at dawn like an echo in silence.
At process of transmutation, old memories
are indelible, stain the solitude,
when I am in retreat, to awake the silence.
The wilderness haunts the morning glory of creation.
Hope imitates the wings for a brief time.
Waking is painful. In attachment to walls,
labyrinth of miseries
we wanted our language to show
Love generates the search for cloudless humility.
Seeing through was not the romance.
Denying was the essence of purity.