Humanly
a violet river flows
under the earth.

I will convey this
sacred feel by gestures.

I lost you between
the words. The ancient ritual
was to recite the pious hymns
hundred one times.

A goddess mocks
the mortal to go dreamer― for
the moon which never stops smiling.

What was the dream
of huddled thoughts, when
light comes through a small window.

How far the Viola has
fallen? The landing pad
will not receive―
the fugitive guest.