Here, dear, here,
In this evening light which makes these woods disconsolate,

I sing hymns of divine condolence.
Flowers of final sunrays are engulfed
In the vagrant waves of sea…
Where they go?
Where?
don't try to analyze what is written over here. this is not to keep some legacy of thoughts, but to have some sort of game for the time being. Ruins of philosophy are ubiquitous and this blog is no difference. the more you ask the questions you seek to ask my words, more is the chance that you will find them disappearing. this is over confidence!