My pen is not flowing wet; 
it rather seems emotionless dry! 
The lost feelings; 
mass of confusion –
it seems like walking through a thick
mass of conifers
up in mountain
after mountain
no sight…
…just hollow emptiness…

Where to begin? 
Where to begin? 
A pond so dark as
my running mind –
deepness, blackness, 
few stars light the path; 
and only silence blows 
through my figure
of lost hope.

…red, orange, yellow flames
blow across the thick 
mass of conifers
up on mountain top
after mountain top –
there blows the raging silence, 
the lost freedom –
stuck in a 
prison of…
…empty desire! !