the ghosts are singing again, outloud.
it is kind of ironic, they know they’re ghosts, and for some reasons they stay at such forms,
and they keep spreading terrors, hatreds, creating suspicions and distrusts among living people.
they are forever ghosts, longing become the sacred people, white-robed, aiming greater than any saints.
oh,God. how could those ghosts praising You while bathing in blood ?
i don’t want to know the reason why You let them do that, as if ignoring everything.
as if letting people like me endure more, must have unlimited patience, forever silent-
tonight i sleep, tomorrow i might as if forget their songs, but they’re exist and would sing again.
because you said it.
so i keep it in mind lightly…
so i listen to it.
feels so close to the hell’s gate.
right in front of it,
i feel no fear.
it has no adequate light,
it is cool but not cold
it is unbright but no dust, no dirt
it is gloom, but i’m calm
there is no sound, no any beings what-so-over
surrounded by unfamiliarities, tranquil and static
how long should i stay here
can i be forever, could not i leave as i like ?
i create an imaginary view through the chants,
i do not remember my previous lives, so i consider those are merely a belief
i do not expect a next life, if repetitive laughters and sadness keep occuring,
so, just here, in front of the hell’s gate is just fine.