Bright lines, paralyze.
Black things, pure minds.
They give something
to fortune.

Listen, tears fall.
White hands thrilling.
Old oaks slashes
a hollow.

Skies falling down on the forest
out the silent room.
Screaming,
I see the starlight
open wide eyes of the moon.

Bluebirds, snow falls.
Heart stops, mirage.
Voices flow flat
to imagination.

Dreaming experience...
Dreaming division...

Rapidly hair become a forest
in the silent room.
Whispering,
I touch the moonlight
thinks melt away in the golden groove.

A.G.