Maybe I have my multiple voices.
Maybe I gave away all my biases.
I still infer my lessons in metaphors
Yet, pointless to my purposes,
I leave it to temper with my silences.

Its February.
Now the loneliness subsizes.
To whom shall I fathom the role?
How shall I willow down this empty road?
My mind is fueled with tempting choices.

Where is the boundary where I shall lay?
Roll in the snow, listen to winds haul;
How should I dictate the Time in the now
Music is  has become my soul crying,
telling me to fend for my own traverses.


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