Minutes distillation

Sitting and staring at the landscape
I don’t value these minutes
That can hand out joyful ideas
And first steps
For a new direction.
The train accelerates,
I slow down

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Workaholic

I often deny the beauty
Of the world passing by
And neglect the true source
Of a life to remember.
Springing water can clean my avidity
With its transparent and youth
And I will make sure I will get surprised
Each time.

Train hug

Fast and straight it climbs the mountain
With the lord nose being its motor
And the admiring faces its cargo.
The little train knows its way,
On the tract that forbidden to humans,
And its personality is antique and unique,
yet home to the roaming foreigners.

Assumption pain

Standing by the centrifuge,
Minutes are like stones i cannot push away.
Laying in the meeting room,
Simplified sentences hurt like ignorance
When dressed as wisdom.

Water within

I sip slowlsy this day
made of too much talking
and too little fresh air.
I let no minute pass under my eyes
while the night rises
with its promise of companion and delight.

Work control

Even on this tortuous mountain
In this dry day off July,
I feel you watching me
With Your magnifying lens.
Your rules are met
And my sweat will drop to the floor
At any minute.
Your lens makes you feel powerful,
Yet it burns me in my place in the sun.