With beautiful white daisies
There was a flower vase
Just a week ago it was glowing
On the green carpet grass
May be something happened
But that’s not shining my heart
I wondered the course of reality
When “artistry” departs the art?
Where does the beauty go
When the form ceases
Does it return to a storehouse
Or unto formless it releases?
Your eyes are so beautiful
And your heart so dear
If eyes are so formed
Why’s the (formless) heart so near?
Who knows what happened
When nothing was to happen
Who knows what happens
When everything is to happen!