If you could attain nirvana through smoke and dust, 

I suppose I would be dancing on top of it now. 

Well don’t go with my onerous beard fools…

I am no willing monk to shed away all my sweet dispositions and ambiguous possessions. 

Still trying to paint a poetry of bones and flesh in this crimson afternoon…

My courtyard emanating with the rush of past and through the nerves of hatched future. 

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