A woman walked passed me.
Her eyes seemed wet with tears.
Or maybe she had just been
to the bathroom.
Seeing herself through circles
of confusion, a state of soul.
But I wondered about those eyes.
Drowned in the dim lit Beijing rain.
Tangled and twisted in toils.
Or love confused and the world
moving at a normal pace.
Beyond the confines of right and wrong
A Wandering Poet 