It is those eyes that hold all of the hidden visions
you sought to tell that flower in your garden.
Oh I overheard your conversation.
You said your heart is stained with blood
and your mother’s last words were,
“I’m going to the tallest mountain
and I’m never coming back.
Maybe one day you’ll find me.
But I’ll wait for you there.”
I couldn’t help but tremble.
The eyes I longed for,
stained with visions of agony.
