I told my pen it could stop
but it fell in love with the blank pages;
its kisses left black footprints,
the course of its pilgrimage,
running to meet its beloved at “the end”
even if she runs alongside.
but it fell in love with the blank pages;
its kisses left black footprints,
the course of its pilgrimage,
running to meet its beloved at “the end”
even if she runs alongside.