Move the steps,
to accept the dark.
Moon has abdicated the throne.

I am still trying to become.
Not becoming something.
A lot has remained―

unsaid in my small poems.
I am still trying, still trying
to decipher the life, to decipher.

The roots will know my pain.
My pain, why did I remained
mute amidst the clamouring words?

Tell me, why should it happen?
Why should? That someone jumps
in the boiling cauldron to find the truth.