I wanted to write the most beautiful poem but that is impossible; the world has written its own.

To dream on occasion is not dreaming, To love on occasion is not love.

All dust is the same dust. Temporarily separated To go peacefully And enjoy the eternal nap.

Senses empower limitations, senses expand vision within borders, senses promote understanding through pleasure.

Into the day as by dream I swim to the music of nourished meaning.

They blossomed, they did not talk about blossoming.

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