The pebbles and the moonstone in the rain
Are gleaming like a cup of falling stars.
The bloody feathers and the dewy petals
Are gathered like enormous roses-beds.
The damp and dusty hall after the storm
Is fuming fragrant odor of dead dreams.
The broken strings of lyra and guitar
Are tuned to play no melody tonight.
The bouncing lilies and the shattered hope
Are floating, dancing as they glide away.
The rusty knife mixed with some sugar cane
Are stirred, dissolving into my sweet tea.
The Sun! Will he come home again to me?
Yet, maybe I enjoy this darkness more.
September 30, 2012
– a small project to help my student 🙂
Uncharted 