Poetry

My unique offer:
I want to embrace your
downtrodden faith.
 
A continuous buzz makes
me nostalgic of my
rendezvous with a walking
fern in early dawn of
enigma on limestone.
 
Would you mind to stand still
in blue light to-
read the unwritten command
of astragalus?
 
Where you want to
go to find yourself in
the black autumn of ashen faces?
 
The ice. A brittle
transparent truth of water.
Can you walk on the frozen lake
of eyes?