No sun shines in this land
There is no hand of guidance

No lighthouse or flashlight to show you the way

There is only a small red heart in hand
whose beating is inaudible from the crashing waters of pouring rain.

When I extend my hands with the beating red bud, the roots of the trees around me light up like a flood.

I can see so many fallen trees in my land
I don’t remember the sound from them falling
but I can hear their clutter

I seal the treasure back in my chest
the sound from the fallen recedes

Tomorrow, again, I will try to find my way through the trees