作舟
There were times
when I could not pause
to have my thoughts
complete themselves.
But
I know I share
your misfortune
though I cannot
name it.
It is not Death.
But
who am I to call it
misfortune?
Is a butterfly really
a soul of a flower
died last summer?
It is not about Sorrow either.
It is about Me --- the selfish Me
uncertain of the common
destination that’s parallel
to our naked desires.
So
let my broken words be
the soil you journey on,
as this careless wind
carrying you
all the way back
home
::
(2008 - 2009)
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