Two Attributes Of A Poet,

Do You Know How It Is When One Wakes At Night Suddenly And Asks, Listening To The Pounding Heart: What More Do You Want, Insatiable?

You See How I Try To Reach With Words What Matters Most And How I Fail.

He Returns Years Later, Has No Demands. He Wants Only One, Most Precious Thing: To See, Purely And Simply, Without Name, Without Expectations, Fears, Or Hopes, At The Edge Where There Is No I Or Not-i.

A Weak Human Mercy Walks In The Corridors Of Hospitals And Is Like A Half-thawed Winter.

When I Die, I Will See The Lining Of The World. The Other Side, Beyond Bird, Mountain, Sunset.