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Timeless Echoes of Blood and Fallen Leaves

If one window is opened, another window somehow automatically starts to close.
Whose cleverness? Never known. Sitting face to face with you is like an incredible fantasy, preparing for a whirlwind of dust storms, the sound of footsteps still makes my heart tremble.

Books and notebooks scattered on the table, cigarette butts, teacups, breathing amid light and darkness. The candle goes out, and I think of water. A holy bath in the Ganges, the sky breaks with rain, pushing the rhyme of time.

Time falls like yellow-green leaves with fresh bloodstains, not a thread of cloth on the body; you can burn it to ashes now. The eyes are like washed-up stars slated to reach earth, and I will taste myself in my ashes.

summer evening
the subdued chirping
of a dying sparrow

Picture created by AI

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