It's pitch dark, my door is ajar

I almost heard the music of roots,

Where the stars whirl out to join silence,

I almost made a home out of numberless rooms.

In the dream, in the cloudy sleepy break

I almost dream out of hurrying buzz,

the pitter-patter sounds like a brick

or stone, mildly gazing over the timeless

place.

I was just a mere flesh, I'm still with

my bones and cracks, watching the darkness

kissing the sound of rain, I almost—

really tried so hard to open my eyes for once.

In the twisted of fate of dreams,

they say, you'll see your other part

in flesh and bones, echoing the same

song— beloved! beloved!

But I was who I am, right?

In the cracks of falling bones,

I was still craving for the human touch,

where my pounding heart almost—

leaped out of my breast.

I couldn't care less,

I almost rush out of the dark,

falling over the branches of past,

I saw the night, yawning over the moon chase. 

It's the night before fall '98,

leaves, strewing with blood

and chilling face— I was still

in the ground, laying as lover's

hostage.

For the first, the wind didn't howl

without kissing my face, shadows

died like the forlorn raindrops, music

dreaded on the loop of summer skin—

I vaguely remembered, walking on

the half shut door.

It's the question that fell,

Or the silence that broke,

I was tempted to blow the darkness—

But I chose the flame of whistling sound,

I left the door ajar to horn.

Time passed in the passage of dark,

I'm still in the room with the door shut,

If you can see me by the window words,

I don't know if it's me or the ghost of the past.

— 30th October, 2024.