​
​How heavy is the sky!
​Sometimes my body
​can no longer bear it.
​
​In these moments,
​I see your image.
​Smiles and stares.
​
​”Listen, whose heart
​is crying?” – you
​whisper to me.
​
​Then, following the
flow ​of wisdom.
​We walked on together.
​Holding up the sky.

Sometimes your words
cut like steel.
Grown inside a cold heart.
But the temple bells
ring out with words.
And colours swirl the sky –
cutting through the void.
Dew and lightening
come and go, but I still
behold the moon.
And hear the blackbirds
singing after the rain.
And you?

​

​I saw the sun
​and a magpie in a tree,
sky viewing.
Draining my coffee,
I gave thanks.
Then followed the
autumn breeze.
​

There is no happiness or sadness.
Just hidden fear
and a beating heart.
I don’t wait for something to come.
Or read between the lines.
Just understand fear
and mindfulness will do.

When I awakened in the
morning, I thought to myself –
love, love, love.
Otherwise, I might end-up
sinking in a clay-street darkness.
I talked to one of
my Chinese friends.
The one who reads
books in English
and understands
the twisting streets.
She told me
“Love is a good thing if
you can find the right person”.
I agreed with her –
and my world seemed
finely balanced, again.

​Today, I can look at the sky
​and lift out a shape.
​Once, the spiders cries
​would break through the clouds.
​All I could see were broken lips
​and broken fingers.
​A time so sadly formed.
​Now just a nights dream
​from time-to-time.

This morning
I sat for a moment and smiled.
Virtue seemed never to end.
Stepping through time –
everything was alive.
And once again we
tasted the sweetness together.

Outside, the street
and sky exchange greetings.
Inside, the princess
and the warrior dance in
each other’s minds
without any effort.
And at the end, with only
half a life in shadows.
Reason and thought
finally become action.
​

I thought to myself
there are worse things
than being alone.
For example,
to miss the sharp
edge of life.
Drinking only
to your bones.
Or to be obsessed
with a beautiful movie star.
And other trivial
segments of nonsense.
So, with a full
moon rising high.
And armed with my poetry,
my coffee and the
warmth I feel
inside – knowing you.
I will stick to being alone.

Under a dead tree.
Autumn is coming.
As the birds fly south
I will try and catch
a few falling leaves.
Each one, a friend
for the winter moon.