I
thought, now they may ask
About the
virgin Mary
Blood
stained sheets and a collection of
Silver linen
tissues, the prayer wheel
Only prays
as far as we turn it
All monks
red
Sincerity, a
breeze, it vanished
When you
opened the box
At the
bottom of the hill sleeps a forest
It is filled with breeding birds
While you
and I spill blood and burst
I keep
wondering, what is the matter?
Was I in
it? Was I part? Illusions and dreams
A red flag
indicates war, my rooms are too full
The wheel
turns, again I cannot stop it
But then, name one who really can
