cup of time
another day is over
my cup is slowly drifting
every time i enjoy a sip
soon it will be gone.
just
like everyone else
my life is stuck in the cycle
of deceptive time,
of life , death and rebirth
too absorb to think
that all i have is just
a cup of time.
another
cup may come
to continue the end of time,
I'll have to start my journey
home...
before it's too late.
rainy days
it's
raining outside
and the lamppost is a
lonesome scene.
tears fall like rain
without rhythm
and i'm alone again.
loneliness
is when we're together
and you have your world
as i have mine.
it
is when loving you
is a sin.
self
preaching
( for jessico)
i
saw you
staring at the space
waiting for time
to cease from running.
do
you try to solve
the mystery of life through silence?
or prefer the language of the poet?
we
can talk
till our throat dries
and walk away
from the blank faces
that haunt us in our dreams.
i
see
you still know how to cry.
with those tears
streaming from your eyes,
let it water the words
i long ago planted in your heart
and in your silence
watch them blossom-
untouched by the impurities of time.
life
is not that cruel
like we used to believe.
it's just that we dream too much
and we refuse to wake up.
|
that which is not
fragile moments
we spend in silence
mute talks of our eyes
only us can comprehend
every stolen moment
passes unguarded between us
leaving us with a choice
but we have no choice
but to enter the forbidden zones
carrying our karmic packs
i
wonder how long can we remain
strangers cloaked behind our skin?
fragile
8
( for maningning )
Surreptitiously
I watch you fade away
Like smoke on thin air
Ascending to the gray clouds.
Like
you,
I muse at the existence of the moon
That fills the void between us.
Like
you,
I bleed at the acerbity of the world
And weep at the despondency
That greets me each morning.
Like
you,
I worship aesthetics
And struggle to create a body of work
That someday I can be sure of.
You
are not alone, Ning
In your purest quest for art
I share the burden.
But now
I'm all alone Mourning...
Musing at the mystery of your thoughts
And the fragility of your existence.
fragile
8
( for maningning )
It
was cold
When you left
It was so cold.
I
don't know
Why I muse
About it
So much.
There
are
Some things in life
I can't define-
Like
why
A good poem
Makes me cry.
Like
why
Do we have to live
And one day
Have to die
|
