Here is my fishnetI have a habitI make collection of momentsILongToCaptureAMoment.

My heart flutterswhen I got to meet youSoon I will see your pretty faceI will hear your beautiful gentle voiceYour wise talksMy soul craves yours tonightAnd I hurry up.

Poetry is madness A ritual I do, but do not know.A night that conquers,Drunks me to helplessness.And it kills shame,Guilt. It hits you like an exploding racket.It shoots out you naked.

And in the fog of stillness, where we see and hear so little:«Do you realize how we are all chasing something in here?The race can wear us down, yet arouse us.»Bees and their somnambulism,With their burden of pollenChasing flowersWho...

A soft whisperTwo gentle handsLight footsteps on the groundA moonlight that appealsAs you follow itOn the path to the moon.