(The incomplete journey) .
As I walk through the streets of my heart and mind,
While passing black towers of carved thoughts :
The echoing sound of agnostic feeling while searching hope,
The world of yellow happiness with illusion of success,
I can feel and can smell the burning spirit of pious talks,
Likewise there were ones thousands to touch with glue quality.

Entering into the world of real is to finish the throat of melodious life,
Is to finish the breath of corporeal frame,
Is to tie burning desires
And to drink a real goblet of truth is to fly on the wings of Gabriel (a. ).

The dream of this journey was as real as my sleep which slipped into the world of sleepers.
All I can see were the scattered petals of my dream now flying .
I finished the drama of my life at your feet oh the real me.