Time was short
and I was in hurry.

In Prophet of grief―
humility of pain was evident,
when you bit your tongue,
chewing unsavory words.

It was the trouble.
You wanted me to wait―
till eternity.

Someone throws an incendiary
device towards me.
I am burnt alive.

There was no need to invite
a moon. When talking to
you, I need a dark night.

Counting annual rings
of a felled fig tree,
Buddha becames very sad.