Burning remains in a messy room
A car chugs away downstairs
A cello joins the song by the horn
The reflective hallway floor is long
On the soft-soled shoes a shadow is distinct
Excavating in the dry river bed
At empty crossroads
looking for something from nothing
looking for the feeling of seeking, footsteps
become more energetic, more purposeful
The flute of melodious memories
delivers years-old breeze
At that time, you were wandering
on the wet streets and gray cement floor
The gale outstretched its sharp claws
scratching your apple-greened chest
There are no intentions to hang around with old symbols
The sun hopes for consolation and
meets the jingle of a cold iron door
Returning to origins is always an imagination
a metaphysical regression
or a private flight by air
A bee returns to the original flower
only to brew honey from another
But never say it is all completely distorted
never say goodbye or farewell
Simply say there is still a long way
The smooth corridor in the hotel
does not represent a road outside
Between this door and that door
between this heart and that heart
all is sealed