Life, it seems extremely nimble on a taught.
My eyes shear tears, my mouth carelessly blares,
While my mind palpitates each time, I think of life.
Something whispers in me’ Life, a film which the dead watch’.
Existence, the crime one is convicted without knowing why he is locked up.
If you know, what was it like in the vacuum of not existing?
Sleeping without dreaming, what a void?
For the palmist, is the palm the map of life?
Angels of life, Angels of death
Oh, what separates and brings two opposite pairs together
I pray one day I stop thinking of it
But Life is a Gory figure.
Reflection made they saw their mirror images
they said ‘this is my kid’.
It cried, smiled, and talked.
It saw how glorious the world was and grew in the array,
which the economy has made.
Each time I sit down, I see myself one day no more
just like the space which is absolutely dark but green
and the other side of me says,
‘ it’s the colors of life, do not think about it so you live long.’