I guess the medication worked
I don’t feel depressed

I don’t feel anything anymore

Ebony and ivory.
Intermixed clefs.
A landscape of sound.
Not paint, but vibration.
Stories woven in air.

Imagination ignited.
Tales spun from silence.
Love, a melody repeated.
Swooning, a chord held long.

Emotions, a full spectrum.
Darkness, a low rumble.
Light, a high trill.
Hard, a percussive strike.
Soft, a gentle sustain.

Symphonies, vast and sprawling.
Rhapsodies, wild and free.
Logic, a precise sequence.
Mathematics, a hidden structure.

A language without words.
Universal, no translation needed.
Across every boundary.
No wall can hold it back.

Species, all ears attuned.
Culture, a shared experience.
A resonance that binds us.
A bridge built of notes.

Eighty-eight keys.
Eighty-eight possibilities.
Each a doorway.
Each a journey.

From the quietest whisper.
To the loudest roar.
A universe contained.
In the space between.

A heartbeat in rhythm.
A breath in harmony.
The soul expressed.
Pure, unadulterated.

No need for explanation.
No need for justification.
Just the sound.
And the feeling it evokes.

A timeless current.
Flowing through us all.
A language of the heart.
Eighty-eight keys, infinite feeling.

Cānghǎi lǎoguī mù cǎilóng,
Bìbō shēn chù yǐng chóng chóng.
Suìyuè diāozhuó jiānyìng ké,
Qíng sī wàn lǚ rào xīnfú.
Dōngfēng fú liǔ chūnyì nóng,
Lóngnǚ yānrán xiàoyǔ zhōng.
Yuàn dé bì dì liánhuā gòng.


The Dragon Maiden and the Sea Turtle
The ancient turtle yearns for the vibrant dragon,
In deep blue waves, shadows throng.
Years have carved a hardened shell,
Yet countless love threads his heart compel.
East wind brushes willows, spring's joy thrives,
The dragon maiden smiles, her laughter survives.
May we together share twin lotus lives.

The pen unfurling, a lifeline cast into the abyss,
words tumbling forth, raw and unfiltered,
a cathartic release, a soul laid bare.

Pain, a searing ember, ignites the page,
anguish, a tidal wave, threatening to drown,
confusion, a dense fog, obscuring the path ahead.

Betrayal, a venomous serpent, coils around the heart,
abuse, a suffocating weight, crushing the spirit.

But the ink flows, a river of sorrow,
washing away the grime, cleansing the wounds.

Love, a beacon of light, pierces the darkness,
friendship, a sturdy anchor, holding fast in the storm.

Joy, a fleeting butterfly, dances on the fingertips,
life, a vibrant tapestry, woven with threads of hope.

Dreams, iridescent bubbles, floating on the breeze,
guiding the way, beckoning towards the horizon.

Observations, like precious gems, scattered across the landscape,
nature's symphony, a harmonious chorus of life.

The cosmos, a vast ocean of stars, twinkling in the inky canvas,
a reminder of our place, a tiny speck in the grand design.

Balance, a delicate dance, between light and shadow,
yin and yang, the ebb and flow of existence.

This wondrous world, a kaleidoscope of colors,
a symphony of sounds, a tapestry of textures.

We, the poets, weavers of stories,
capturing the essence of life,
in every brushstroke, in every verse.

Let it flow, the emotions, the thoughts, the dreams,
unleash the torrent, let it wash over you.

For in the flow, there is healing,
in the flow, there is truth,
in the flow, there is life.