Facing straight ahead, your eyes look blank.
just out of mess and ruins,
veins of your skin turn scarlet red.
in a matter of a few syllables,
as if I am made to form,
reveal the eternal, care for nothing else
all the time behind.
a spark, a tiny thought revolves in my mind.
the smallest play of the green leaves
in the branches,
can erase the wounds and scars.
undeterred the law of life; we grow silent.
out of this trust, we live in response
that lay ahead,
turn pages to history.