Orchids

orchids

In these chaste chasms of dreams,
embers lay solemnly,
their dying breaths long since gone,
ushered away and of little consequence now.
The undisguised dust, like gentle butterflies,
finds a place in the air.
The soft eyes of fate watches the dimming cloud
filter out of view, then as wind
she blows it back in our face.
Despite lost fulfilment,
and rather than choke, we breathe deeply again
like new-born infants crying out for a chance,
luck and good fortune to
clothe us on the coldest of days,
and perhaps for well earned rewards to litter our path,
the rains to pour down and the heavens to smile
on us when we stoop to pick up the promised orchids.

Love is on the Brink

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I thought all love was the same,
except maybe with time,
the thicker the blood
the stronger the pain.
Then I thought love was to blame
when your hand,
which was once so gentle
while it held my heart,
became the ledge it teetered on.
I was too frightened to breathe,
afraid to fly from that cold stone
where one push could send me falling
and falling.
So I stopped breathing,
but you were always there
in your various ways,
I could feel you
slamming on my chest,
pounding and pounding –
you would fool me with this love,
massaging until you brought me back,
and like a fool I came back
only to stand with jelly legs
looking down into the abyss of you.
I thought love sometimes ended.

Journeys iii: Heavenly Lake

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I hope my journey will be as far
as the day is long,
propelled by my desire to sit
beside the mountain one last time,
cross legged in breathless sighs
to rest like the mist on the shoulder
of this giant, and later, when I sleep,
all dreams and sad memories
that accompanied me on this trail
will be companion to my tears held within it.
There I will await the sudden majesty of sunset,
and see dwelling therein all heartache
until morning so that I can sleep soundly
and unburdened; temporarily
unfastened from my days
as they draw to an end, to wake refreshed
for the long road ahead.
Navigating this golden gateway
between heaven and earth will be filled with
trepidation but with a heart so much lighter –
deftly held by the sunrise,
rich in artistry, resplendent in colour
to soothe my aching bones –
it will be something to revisit,
or perhaps just gaze at from
the cradle of the mist.
My breath is captured stillness,
its last composition unravels
in the jade brushwork of reeds,
stroked to fine perfection and inked
just right; it is my penned farewell to
the Tianchi Lake where I now meander
in spirit.

(i) West window
(ii) Journey