A big desire is not enough to meet the expectations of lost dreams.
Is it possible to write a poem or are these words just screams of outlaws exiled to the desert?
Will the day tell its secret Before it disappears, Becomes timeless night.
In trying to be perfect, He perfected the art of anonymity, Became imperceptible And arrived nowhere from nowhere.
Even if you are alone you wage war with yourself.
Nothing is part of everything.