Wednesday, 31 August 2011


God's existence in stones, may

be you don't believe, but it's

true, my extreme veneration says -

around here, may be one day

I'll find the paradise of emotion, in

the hands of exhausted potter,

somewhere, into the color of lost

painter, forgotten by the

world, in the brine sweat of

cultivator, I'll search you, into the

broken breath of artisan, on the fine

particle of sand into the lungs

of miner, hollow gut of prostitute, my

exploration travel throughout the

life to death, may be one day

I'll get you, as a coin on the trembling

hand, like a dream on the vacant

eyes, I'll we show you on that

day the loathsome tattoos

made by the world, into the depth of

perception, innocent expectation,

on the surface of humanism,

justice he has have to do, I'll ask him,

the reason of default, missing

after creation, one day

I'm sure, he would be emerge from

the stone, like a lament

revolution, under the dead volcano!