How heavy is the sky?
That relieves all the pain.
Why complain, I thought.
To achieve everything
all you have to do is let go.
And listen to the
whispering of the night.
Softly, softly moving.
Such is the magic of nature.

​In the sky a single star.
​That has not moved all day.
On the sea a boat.
Sailing all night.
It seems such a one-sided love –
unfurling over Shanghai.
But by the shimmering lights.
It drifts along on a slow sail.
Of life, death and earth.
​

​
​In Shanghai
​I decided not to
​chase after the world.
Nor to seek planted wisdom.
The wind settled
and the world came to me.
I won’t even stop.
So, I will keep on walking.
Coming and going.
Just like the birds.
​

​Over the bay
and into the sky.
I walk with you.
Past the old
warm lanterns.
And maps in the street.
Ahead, the waves swayed.
Too young for their age.
And silently flowing
into the sea.
Today and tomorrow.

Street signs spelling out life.
But too many people
seeking companions in their flight.
So, I take a train to Shanghai.
To see what all the fuss is about.
A thing of beauty.
Or the shrill screech of train brakes.
​

On the slopes of the
Hangzhou streets.
Recollecting waterside kisses.
That saved my body.
I returned again,
like a second sighting.
The sweet odor
of your glistening lips.
The quiet sheen of your
short black hair.
Was enough to take me back
to our eternal show.
​

​The sound of a cat
​alone on a Hangzhou street.
​Cold, cold.
​
​My soft whispers.
​A moment of hope.
​And the petals fall.
​
​The east wind
started to blow.
​A final withering of winter.
​
​And in the distance
​a love flickers.
​With every step I get closer.
​
​Hounding my life span
​to see you again.

Today, I can look at the sky.
Bleach blue and freshly woven.
All the faces smiled.
As they asked for news of the heart.
And all the things that wander.
​

I am the one
who drinks his coffee
and hears the
morning sounds.
I do not count the days,
nor cling to the present.
And try and see a oneness
that is within all of us
What is this mind?
Some may ask.
A clear mirror,
ready and waiting.
I say.
​

​
​Today is the beginning
of the poets work.
Afterall, the truth
can never be taken
from another.
So, I put down a cup
of rough coffee.
And the watch the magpies
cross the crowded sky.
This frees my mind.
To see the spider
weave it’s web.
Always knowing what to do.
​