The Light
All can talk about love
Ev-ery-one has love
no love the same
rock,
tree,
cloud,
Sea,
vegetable field,
like moss,
My friend, Henry Woz
sitting in a creaky chair
On a desk stained with ink stains
to write poetry
thoughts, landscapes, and
Take out the past days from the drawer
To the girl who has no way to meet
After writing her a letter
With saliva left over from the first kiss
Like when put a stamp on an envelope,
love doesn't shine in the dark
love does not long for the light
love is rolling with the dark
Until the darkness has nowhere
to go.
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