White wide across, plain, empty in surreal serene barely lost
Breathes when the wind traces the surface, the seamless grasslands in the feet of mountains
Shreds of agony may bring overnight drought, sabotage the shield
Though a thousand reasons still uproars, irrigate the field.
Endless at the edge, empty on the surface a drop of color could make an indifference
Still all though it fails, when it absorbs dark and retains white
It’s the boiling water, will eventually be cold, a stain could not divert the precedented determined
Neither it is the clay to knead, a sculptor be sculpted, it retains the hollow emptiness
Just a little flash and shine, it comes in the ashes
A blaze of fire can tear the emptiness down but the ashes end down in serene
Somethings cannot be changed or dissolve while the earth spins, the flesh stands all inert
And when it believes, it is all which comes in deep white space
Copied and pasted from Eksentrika.