Time has stopped. Blue colored stillness from the extinguished artery without any life slowly raised its head. Maybe it is a white light.
Somewhere in the early morning with no strength to raise my hammer, I don't know where to set up my soul.
I look into the primitive among the loud noise of the machine remembering only the sounds of my breathing.
Conception, birth, growth, and death are cut off in sequence. I raise my knife again. The flashing light. I finally realize the my blood is still warm. I will hold the chisel again slowly but with intensity.
There are too many stars for me to turn off the light.
