In my heart nothing was left.
Not even the ruins of a future wiped out by the cruel, modern world.
No flying ridge, mountain shade, not even that dust speck that hurt my eye is hanging.

They’re gone.

A vision of the future, the results of my supernatural powers spread out by my heart!
Only the few leaves of young monocots stand at the wasteland’s edge

as if for the first time.


They don’t look the way they did when they were waiting for something.

There, again, because

they can’t forget the earth’s morning light

that shone on their past-lives now vanished,

just like that time, in my eye-catching mind,

they’re shaking together.
In that place, they make an impossible future into a distant past

and the past into a future that won’t come.

Each of your short times together

are still muttering uselessly in your dead mouths

and are vanishing into the other sides of times

which have all become the past.
A small wind blows from my hand.