It is the time of new beginnings
and contains worlds around the panelled walls.
Every carving, every temple has a tale to tell
I wonder what it’s all about.
A sense of fragmentation is in turn only
the drowsy alphabets, immobile, fixed.
Fire and smoke engulfing the strong wind in a haste,
old manuscripts etch bridges in the rock carvings
Haiku climbs through the clouds of philosophy
picks up the pieces of your thought.
Memories are kept in the long boxes and
the fine tissues drop stories there.
Darkness lies upon one another
Each instant is resolve and endurance.
