Desert’s, Beloved,
Scorpions’ home. Oases—
Crops are rich and sweet.
———————————————————
Walking on a rim with smiles and cries is now, drawing a circle from one start to one end— a point.
A close-looped cycle, dear Self. Are you in?

graphs of my Universe
Desert’s, Beloved,
Scorpions’ home. Oases—
Crops are rich and sweet.
———————————————————
Walking on a rim with smiles and cries is now, drawing a circle from one start to one end— a point.
A close-looped cycle, dear Self. Are you in?

When the dream has fallen down
Let it go.
Move on.
Though not wither, hope can dry out and burn itself down like forest in heat fire….
May all beings be happy.
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