Leaves

A leaf of an oak
Returning to same strong roots
When the autumn calls

Bubbles

A rapid rain
Calls in mourning sounds
Stones on her grave

Calling

Grandmother's voice
Still calls in mornings
Only from my dreams

Wilderness

The call of the wind
Upon the long burning fire
The dance of the wild

Calling

The sharp west-wind blows
The sea calls in vain the shores 
Of understanding

Call

Call me a rebel

Lost are my causes 

In seas of roses

Call me a river

Lost is the spring well

To destination

Call me a mountain

Lost is the structure

Of my long searching

Call me a human

Lost I am in crowds

Of sound religions

Call me the lightness

Lost is the darkness

Between written words

Call me the soundless

Lost shout out the thoughts

In deepest silence

Don't call me at all

I will find my self

Wherever I am

Unnamed

How do you call
A cold summer breeze
By its sorrow

Scream

Softer the call
Of weeping willows
Shouter the spring

Nonsense

Calling Buddha
For Buddha’s calling
No Buddha

Leaves

What is spring
Illusions call loud
From leaves of youth

Red

Upon your red lips
Nothingness finds its calling
Into one’s being

Calling

A monster calls
The daring moonlight
Tremoring claws

AWE

What makes man wonder
But the sound of love falling
Love calling out love

Sunset

In one's sickness
One recognizes
Death’s cold calling