hodeng

In the dance of mortem and amare, love and death intertwine. Beneath the moon’s pale gaze, two shadows twist and bind. A rose wilts in the frost, its petals kissed by night. Yet still it blooms in memory, where passion’s fire burns bright. For what is life without any ending?—a hollow dream. The hourglass of

In the mist of serene hues,A lingering ray of gold spurned,Embracing the gray stone with warmth.Out came the stoneFrom the clutch of the vain,Thought to be vice,Yet melted into golden sparks.Wandering was the stone.The gold spurned and raised hope;The hope of affection,The hope of love,The hope of care.Barren in the cycle of the gray stone,The

I press’d mine tongue within this humble cup…