Favorite Author or Book:
My dad — he’s a writer
Dream for the Future:
To be a pilot/architect
You Don’t Remember
The running waterfall dampens the scriptures,
and language is made anew,
a word is as dirt,
and as dirt is as a phoenix,
it dies and rises from the ashes and flew,
but the knowledge is left behind and neglected,
almost guarded by Cerberus, as left an enigma,
forgotten and stored in shadowing archives,
archives of the mind, only revisited by those
when the topic is relevant,
a thought is an unreliable tool.
It needs sharpening to stay useful,
but, this is hard.
And the dirt is deep,
and with this the phoenix sleeps.
Because you can’t remember, the bird its burning ember,
to the icy cold the fire surrenders.
You don’t remember.