A forest of 
       dangling towers
touches an intricate hive
nesting in 
       dancing flowers—
            so lost we might seem, 
so lost that I might be
     nothing more than a bee 
nesting in a dream. 
A forest that believes that the tales that dangle its feathers are eternal. A hive that hides its romance with flowers. Succumbing to the confident secrecy, there is no safe haven. Where can we find peace? What could release us from our own confusion? We were the source of it all: a storm, hot lava, the breeze, stillness, a bee in a forest that finds the ephemeral nature of all things.
Signature Lina Ru