I greet an abstract as my name,
The colours as our conversations,
I throw those coordinates onto the space
With a unique emotion obscured and lost,
But to make the words fly to the lake,
I seek an elm from the faded abstract,
The puzzle resolves through colours of the game,
And the elm burns a desire to resemble their grace.
It burns like a phoenix to rejoice its death with each stroke,
And the abstract reveal a further dimension to the shore.
A lake well driven in my imagination,
Floods the reaches of my universe,
And I lose myself into a thought that hold the converse.
The ink fills my ocean and reflect meanings out in the night.
Where a moon appear over the ocean to read a lost sign,
But it is not too late, till the sun arrives,
And turns the water red, and my mind blind,
With no vision I wake up in a forest,
A forest where I live to drram again.
I am a writer and I need to feel again.