Before the door on my right is closed and the scenes dart with velocity of wings of the birds
Before I prop myself up upon the stick of perseverance
Before I choose to forget
To close my eyes to the scent of sweats
Before I immerse in the sea of principles
my own principles
colliding and melting
Before I fight again, for an abandoned dignity and fortified values
Before they stretch the fabrics of my soul with selfish hands
Before I lie again,
I think of you
of crescent moon and pearly dew
of summer at the sixth station
In these meaningless gaps in-between
You. My imagination.
That’s all I think about.
I think about you.