There comes the time when I feel myself standing in a secluded island. Briefly had I seen a veil made by fog and I want to cast off. There comes the time when I attempt to cast off but in vain somehow. Already had I given my soul to a private sacred hand who prohibited me from leaving this silent prison. Should I try more?
I search for myself a safe place in my own realm, suspending in it to forget everything I have remembered. I recall what I tried to abandon but failed. How will the pain disappear?
There comes the time when I pick a leaf and drop it down on the water. And I silently behold the twirling leaf. There comes the time when I want to be the leaf, flowing quietly with the stream ...