A flickering lamp keeps this body company. I am like pear blossoms which have already fallen. Pity the bare branches during the late spring.

Gain or lose, how is one to know what is predestined? Rich or poor, who is to say it is not the will of heaven?

America has power, but not justice. In prison, we were victimized as if we were guilty. Given no opportunity to explain, it was really brutal. I bow my head in reflection but there is nothing I can do.