let me think but not to think
dimmed the white light
the lion is still sleeping
weeping for the loss, the night
and the wind flies the time
born to question
me, myself, cannot rest
I am the flower in the garden of time
beseech before me, I am
still waiting
grasping the air
bend me over, my search of freedom
it is a hope that never be fulfilled
be content, must I?
