Gleams

Don’t fill time with distractions

Don’t put it inside a pocket

Perish wisely and wildly

Or perish again?

What trees am I?

Wordless Sunday

 

Mystery

Asymmetry has its own beauty

Nothing revealed, nothing concealed

Only loss of symmetry

Like death with its own mystery

Brings silence and tears.

Memory

The loved one—

the radiance when lost

should not be remembered

with sadness

evening comes

then the stars

I should not cry.

Three blue fish