I imagined I was God for a millisecond And became speechless for a long time.

You don't know anything, but I know even less.

If emptiness is empty, how can something be borne or awaken from it?

Creating means living.

You are hurrying to the sweet place, To the nonsense chasing your spirit And in the nonsense you look for answers.

And this that you call solitude is in fact a big crowd.

A word into the silence thrown always finds its echo somewhere where silence opens hidden lexicons.