I wished a solitary temptation, to write off karma and become responsible for the spattered blood. You were generating hatred, Asia, in the land of Buddha. I can hear the glaciers receding.
Answerable to belonging, the change of generations, makes me free to become deaf and dumb. Only I wanted to see, and see through burning walls, the hands, who lighted the torch to burn the transparent shame.
Rejecting the original script of fighting a god, in the midst of non-truths, how far the time will decide the destiny of man? I break off from the cliches, wait for the leaves to fall and its drifting darkness on the open land of wounded whispers.