Today I look at the sky and see the ocean. I’m thinking of you. The high cheek bones, and a smile to make the sun and moon rise. The breasts of the woman, holding the shape of our night. Your breath caught in my mouth, lifting the spirits of the sky. I will float down the streams and rivers, until I reach the ocean. And once again, with fond touch- hold you in my arms. That perfect feel.
We met in a classroom. On the way between lost love and exile. “Follow me in life, and your pain I will kiss away”, you said. And your words were not just empty talk. I stood there in ecstasy, with you clawing at my hair and my chest. The hard edges disappeared. The saplings of weeping and rage – ripped up. So we set off of find the coast, and peer once again into the cave of life.
I look to the sky, and see black wings bounding their last bound. The summer breezes forget to sigh, morose in their wrapped flames. As the long night of chants begin, I can here a few muffled sounds of lovers coupling. A new life, way beyond a passion confessed. No longer forcing all nature to submit.
Cries for peace heard loud. But still the coffin flags furl, on warm summer days. War is great for greed, and sacred prejudice. And as the bruised petals weep tears. Some drink to the good old days, cemented in their soul. A great white ghost of nostalgia, watching the lifeless torsos rotting in the summer heat. An indifferent anthem to life.
We run towards the river, to think of the old days. And everyone is happy, beyond measure. But this is the gift of dreams, that hides a darker answer. Exhausted from your wounds, there is something that made everything numb. Letting the days of pain, melt into the deep night. With no sure memory, of how things used to be.
The summer sun burns the Buddha’s hair. And the fingers of darkness guide the night owls. Breeding dark nights after dark nights. Yet, hidden behind a garden of willows no birth, no death. An untrimable light, with the power to fashion this place. Around the wreaths of darkness, the flowers, the trees and the sky unfurl. And the days will become long, and reasonable. The green paths of the new world.
Cutting a swath through rain – drenched streets. The flesh falls all the way. These days, even the rain is no more. But still leaves behind the memory of scent.
A blaze of water flooding the streets, whispers its longing. As I gaze at the Luoyang sky, your love is pure and plain. Locked in your spell, I know no fear, for I am washed with a world of joy. Sunlit and impearled, with life-drops that mingle yet.
The heroes keep their ancient places. Laying still, as rigid as stone. Stuck with deep sadness, and silent swimming. Water trickling into a koi pond, but still no rest and peace. Just a few blue magpies between worlds – drinking on the wind. And hoping for better days.
Loud thunder outside, a noise like hordes of unknown soldiers. It silences everything, even the songs of the cicadas amidst the thickets. And afterwards, will the sky be blue and clear – the trees wise and charming? Or will there still be darkness on the river. Wide, in a moving path of suffering?
A Wandering Poet 