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Poetry Haven 
2008 June Jun
2008 June Jun
Jun
Living with striving forces, waking up in the dark and realizing your eyes are the light bulb. Tiny little flowers are growing because of your daring eyes. Years passing by, as if nothing were alive, crying for so much suffering, you believe it is all in vain, and suddenly, flowers…
Dangling flowers over the roof top, singing the song of my grandfather, time is meant to end, he died, and said," What ends are your concepts, us, trapped in time, can never end."
Dancing leaves against the window, explaining the truth of time, it is in silence, where we become…