Such a thing
Could be so much
Cunning!
They came in
To teach me
To be unworldly
But secretly
They were too much worldly.
If to be worldly
Is a sin
It is never more than a lie
I wish not to do sin in multiple
Here the preachers of the unworldly
Do sins in double.
Flexing my muscle
I declare
In front of them
‘’I am too much worldly.”
Being an unworldly
If I get immortality
And the end of both
If is not the death
Then I would renounce the world
And embraces the unworldly.
People spoke in different languageOnly two of us are of our mother tongueThat night I really traveled, too, farAnd never thought of retracing backUntil I missed my identityOut of my jacket pocket.I did not ask myself nor did I mindWith excitement I kept walkingOn the beautiful oceanic wavesLosing my return track.Then the waves went really…
The story is very simple telling about one man showSome believes some believes notBut i am telling them all thatThere is nothing like which i cannot do with easeIf i wish I can put out the stars with my blowIf i wish i can make a thousand flowers bloomWith the silent sound of my finger…
And this universe is his kingdomUpon us He drops His WisdomBy which we run our nationsJust imagineWho is the personAnd What’s the wrong with him to oppose it?ImagineThere is a God aboveAnd below some people are inspired to loveAnd prevent some to do wrongWho is that person to oppose it?ImagineThere is no GodAnd no hell…
as the rainto the cloudand you are so tuckered outthat you can’t bearany morethe weight and pressureyour legs are deadyou feel burned outand out of coldnessyou condense and freezethough you try hardto concealbut the wind knows alland tellsdifferent storieswith hundred photographsreal and genuinethrough yourbeautiful and bright eyesonly a true friend knowshow to readand what goes…
Then and thenYou miss the vision of its interior partsThis is very naturalAnd you can’t haveAt a timeBothThe wholeAnd its partsYou can’t remainAt a timeBothFullAnd halfThis is the limitationWe the human beingBorn withYou are destinedTo be imperfectIncompleteAt the endDissatisfaction is the only prizeYou winSuch is the sorry stateOf our fate
To make you understandInside of me which runs wildI close my eyesSwitch on the power of imaginationBut no image I getThe wish I hold for youNeither have I got any objectTo compare my delightWhen I seeYour hanging portraitThings go abstractNo vehicle, no tenor I getTo say somethingOn beauty you posses.
