A fantasy spring
A fantasy
just
out of reach
Grabs hold
of
my attention.
I wonder,
Were
you
always there? Present?
Alleluia
just
inside struggling
Embers
of
my belief.
I wonder,
Were
you
always there? A spring
Refreshing
waters
deep in the ground
Deep
inside
my soul.
I wonder,
Why did I
never
accept these graces?
Why did I
chase
my silly ambitions?
Pure fantasy
The bear performed poésie argumentative
filled with scenes of female intimacies.
A protest of violation, gross unfair treatment
that no man could challenge without broaching offense.
His schemes hidden
beneath layered skirts of feminine privacy.
Bears, he said,
Must roam vast fields of sunflowers.
Then emphasized
green traditional lands of far eastern bears.
Next, these scholars
listened to a tiny nightingale.
They expected a cheerful song of spring,
yet the young bird could not embody the melody.
Simple feelings said little bird,
Mister bear never mentioned love.
Simple wishes sang little bird,
Let me tell you a secret.
The male scholars followed
the child’s advice.
They resigned their seats to —
Loving mommies.
Touched
Can a fiery dream take you away?
You lose your mind.
Your body still functions.
Your soul explores secret, unspeakable worlds.
The heart beats, lungs fill with air, stomach digests food,
nutrients replenish, micro-operations at every level continue.
Lungs breathe out, colon empties, bladder releases,
your body’s pilgrimage treks through imaginary landscapes.
Or maybe it doesn’t travel but stays stationary
to retain its two-meter space in the universe.
Existence drifts
dreamless,
voiceless,
timeless,
unconsciousness.
The body sleeps, waiting for your return.
The return of your mind.
The end of the dream that took you away.
It started when you blew out your first birthday candle.
The fumes of particles disappeared into the sky.
Not gone forever, but came back spark of ash,
becoming parts of the candle again.
We eagerly await the candle’s renaissance.
We do.
We wait.
Yet, no one has seen the wonderful candle
smiling
untouched by fire.
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