I have exhausted myselfThere is no place left for me to tap into.Things to do have taken hold on meFrom dawn until dusk, mainly from
Religion is not a pure herb,Let alone the place where the Principle of Life grows and inspires. Religion is a mix of herbs with a
This poem is following : What Makes me Feel like Crying (1/2) This is the point where wordsCollapse into linesAnd lines fade out in dots,Where
The path of non-attachment is exhausting,On every bend, we believe we have reached the home stretchOnly to discover we are headed to another turn.On this
Across the paper sheet,Sliding in surgical signsThe therapeutic pen.Confident, studious,Riveted to the obligation of resultIt cuts and probes into the tissuesOpening on the beating heart.
Would there be anyone to tell me or show me in which fold from the Big Consciousness Cloth I have once again let myself be