Still breaking ever sooner
than fixing shattered pieces
I shed off dried and cracking
without some clues or traces,
where certainly, they fell
along this wide-eyed skin,
my gazes missed good byes
of torches flown from sins;
what's behind this fragility,
what's been triggering my breaks,
what such heaviness I poured
that's flooding all my flakes;
soul-suffocating;
my passages of breath,
my channel nerve cells' flow
where common sense I bled;
no climax at arising;
from mid-horizon's dream
for no beginner's yet alive,
no stepping stones they seem;
but lightly taking chances
and pulling backwards fear,
of still pursuing earthly prize
untouched by wisdom spear;
for only reasons of truth
of reality's one requirement,
most no privileged, constant measure
by learners passing their enslavement;
but victory of losing art
for wages of furnished life
yet, valued much to breathe survival
for paid wishes, believing dies.
