And if it's one thing written in wisdom
Were there three things following,
Or only that familiar sense of emptiness?
A tinny sensation as I bite the bit,
All bytes and bits, the tinniest little mess.
The whole world will be blessed,
I never wish, I don't pretend,
Live on a razor and feel the edge.
I can feel my face and fingers,
I can see the flavor of the season.
Salsa--and the art of the freshness, or,
The secret of life and everything,
May everyone of my words ring true
And glow like burning coal.
Every page like it was written in my soul,
From me to me,
For you or you,
I'm tangling in greys and greens,
Let the moss grow slow on the south-side of the trees,
If you need me I'll be in my room,
Watching Aziz.
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