1-01 Wood
Sunlight, a pale wash across the room,
catches the curve of your sleeping shoulder.
A stillness hangs, a moment held in amber,
before the world's clamor breaks the quiet.

My heart, a quiet drumbeat in my chest,
a warmth that spreads, a gentle, rising tide.
This love, a gift you placed within my hands,
an old soul's wonder, found in morning's grace.

Rays of light, like golden threads, entwine
through strands of hair, a halo on your cheek.
The air is thick with the scent of peach and rose,
a fragrance woven from your very being.

I trace the line of your jaw, the soft swell of your lips,
a landscape etched in the memory of touch.
This waking moment, a fragile, precious thing,
the first sight, the first breath, the first, always you.

****-Narrative | Yin

Twelve days have passed, and no word comes to me,
no painted stroke, no ink upon the page.
I fear the silence, yet I picture her,
a solitary figure, far away.
She seeks the earth, to ground her restless soul,
the water's flow, to cleanse her troubled mind.
The fire's heat, to forge a stronger will,
the wind's soft sigh, to whisper ancient truths,
Beyond the Element Mountains, she must roam.

She walks the paths where granite peaks arise,
where rivers wind through valleys, deep and green.
She feels the heat of embers, glowing bright,
the rustling leaves, a language she can hear.
I see her face, reflected in the stone,
a mirror to the strength she holds within.
She seeks the balance, lost within the storm,
the harmony that silence can impart,
a journey inward, where her spirit flies.

I wait for her, a shadow in the room,
where empty scrolls and brushes gather dust.
I trace her image, on the window pane,
a phantom artist, painting absent days.
I hear her footsteps, in the falling rain,
a distant echo, of her coming home.
I feel the longing, that the silence breeds,
the ache of absence, in the heart's long hall,
a story written, in the waiting time.

She will return, with wisdom in her eyes,
a quiet strength, that silence has refined.
She will bring stories, of the mountain's crest,
the river's journey, the fire's burning grace.
And I will listen, to her whispered tales,
of ancient elements, and inner peace.
For in her journey, love has found its way,
to bridge the distance, that the silence made,
where spirits meet, Beyond the Element Mountains.

--------------------------------------------------­--------------------------------------

Ci-Meditative | Yang

Twelve suns have risen, twelve pale moons have waned,
and silence stretches, a vast, unyielding sea.
No ink-stained paper, no painted breath arrives,
no whispered echo of your distant voice.
I picture you, beyond the city's hum,
a soul adrift, where ancient elements reside.
The earth holds steady, where your bare feet tread,
a grounding force where turmoil starts to cease,
a silent journey, Beyond the Element Mountains.

The water's flow, a cleansing, cool embrace,
washes away the doubts, the fears, the stains.
The fire's dance, a flicker in your eyes,
ignites the passion, where resolve takes hold.
The wind, a restless spirit, whispers truths,
through rustling leaves, a language understood.
The metal gleams, a mirror to your soul,
reflecting strength, a clarity reborn,
a quiet passage through a world unseen.

I trace your steps, a phantom on the path,
imagining the landscapes you explore.
The granite peaks, the river's silver thread,
the burning embers, the sigh of forest breeze.
I build a shrine of thoughts, a mental space,
where your reflection lingers, calm and deep.
My mind, a canvas where your image lives,
a portrait painted with imagined light,
a patient vigil, where hope begins to bloom.

The silence lingers, heavy, yet serene,
a space for growth, a pause where love endures.
I trust the journey, where your spirit flies,
to find the answers, hidden in the stones.
And when you return, with eyes that hold the dawn,
I will embrace the wisdom you have found.
For in the stillness, love's true strength is shown,
a bond unbroken, by the passing days,
where silence lives, Beyond the Element Mountains.

Ink bleeds softly on thin paper,
your words, like strokes of painted light,
arrive, a week delayed, a world away.
I trace the curve of your imagined hand,
the ghost of pigment, the scent of distant rain,
a landscape formed from sentences, and sighs.
My desk, a cluttered altar, holds your art,
a still life of our unspoken dreams,
within a Garden of Whispers, softly spun.

The brush you wield, a whispered secret,
creates worlds I can only touch in thought.
Your canvas blooms with colors I have missed,
a vibrant echo of your absent smile.
Each letter, a portrait of your soul,
revealed in glimpses, shadows, and soft hues.
We build a Garden of Whispers, line by line,
a sanctuary where our spirits meet,
a place where distance cannot truly steal.

The moon, a silent witness to our words,
hangs heavy in the night, a silver coin.
I write by candlelight, the shadows dance,
a phantom audience to my devotion.
My pen, a clumsy instrument of love,
attempts to capture what your art conveys.
I yearn for touch, for shared and simple breath,
within this Garden of Whispers, we reside,
a moment where the ink and paint collide.

The year revolves, a slow and aching dance,
of paper ships that sail across the miles.
I wait for spring, for your returning hand,
to paint the landscape of a living day.
My heart, a canvas stretched and waiting still,
for your arrival, for your vibrant touch.
The letters fade, the ink begins to pale,
yet in this Garden of Whispers, love remains,
a masterpiece, etched in the soul’s long hall.

The night's deep well, where Whispers of a Silent Heart reside,
On silken winds, a phantom dance, where secrets softly glide.
My silent heart, a jade-clasped box, each thrum a muted strain,
Time, like thick honey, slowly drips, a sorrow's gentle rain.

Shadows on papered walls now bloom, with memories' faint trace,
Lost dreams, like plum blossoms, swept from a forgotten vase.
A single star, through clouded panes, a fragile hope's thin gleam,
While the world, in breathless hush, awaits the dawn's first beam.

A sigh, like rustling bamboo leaves, stirs tender thoughts anew,
Wrapped in the warmth of solitude, where only truths accrue.
The heart, a silkworm's hidden thread, its softest sighs impart,
Whispers of a Silent Heart, a world held deep apart.

In quietude, a lotus pool, where unseen depths unfold,
A universe of solitude, in stories yet untold.
My painted brow, a furrowed line, reflects the moon's pale light,
Whispers of a Silent Heart, alone in fading night.

The light, a fractured prism, paints a wall,
But what hues dance there, is not for all.
My eyes, a filter, stained by memory's trace,
See crimson where another finds a gentle space.
The scent of rain, to me, a promise kept,
To you, a ghost of tears, a sorrow wept.

The mountain's peak, a triumph, sharp and bold,
To those below, a story yet untold.
The river's flow, a journey, smooth and grand,
To those it floods, a vengeful, grasping hand.
A whispered word, a lover's softest plea,
To jealous ears, a sharp conspiracy.

The canvas vast, of moments spun and frayed,
Each stroke of sense, a different truth displayed.
The taste of wine, a vintage, rich and deep,
To bitter tongues, a poison they will keep.
The touch of skin, a comfort, warm and true,
To those betrayed, a wound they can't undo.

The rustling leaves, a symphony of sound,
To anxious hearts, a threat on hallowed ground.
The city's hum, a vibrant, pulsing beat,
To weary souls, a suffocating heat.
The silent stare, a gaze of pure intent,
To guilty minds, a judgment heaven-sent.

The world unfolds, a tapestry of sight,
Each thread a truth, held in a different light.
Beliefs and values, woven, tight and deep,
Shape how we see, the secrets we will keep.
A half-full glass, a beacon, shining bright,
A half-empty void, consumed by endless night.

The bridge we build, between our separate shores,
Demands a language, that forever explores.
No single map, can chart the human heart,
Each landscape shifts, and tears the world apart.
And so we ask, and listen, and explain,
To find the common ground, to ease the pain.

The silent spaces, where our visions clash,
Require the gentle touch, of understanding's flash.
To share the stories, that our senses weave,
To bridge the gaps, that time can never leave.
To build a world, where empathy can thrive,
Where different eyes, can learn to keep alive.

And in the quiet moments, when we’re alone,
We ponder the foundations, we’ve always known.
We seek the answers, in each other’s gaze,
To navigate the labyrinth, of life’s complex maze.
Though we look at things from a glass half full or half empty – perhaps the question should be - is there a glass?

Jiǔzhài Xīnyǔ

Shānsè kōngméng suǒ bì hú,
Fēipù yín liàn wǔ yún qú.
Dié cǎi yáochí yìng tiānjìng,
Qīngliú wǎnzhuǎn sù shǔ dū.

Qiūfēng rǎn lín fēngyè chì,
Dōngxuě fù lǐng yù qióng zhī.
Sìjì lúnhuí jiē shì huà,
Xīn suí liúshuǐ jì xiāngsī.

Céng yì qiāng gē rào cuì gǔ,
Jīnzhāo mènglǐ fǎng yōudú.
Xì tīng Jiǔzhài xīnyǔ sù,
Yī lǚ xiāngchóu rù fèifǔ.

Whispers of Jiǔzhàigōu

Mountain hues, misty, lock jade lakes deep,
Flying waterfalls, silver silk, cloud pathways sweep.
Layered, colorful pools, heaven's mirror gleam,
Clear streams, winding, Chengdu's tales they seem.

Autumn winds paint forests, maple leaves burn red,
Winter snow covers peaks, jade tapestry spread.
Four seasons turn, each a painted scene,
Heart follows flowing water, longing, serene.

Once, Qiang songs echoed in emerald valleys,
Today, in dreams, I seek its lonely alleys.
Listening closely to Jiǔzhàigōu's whispers,
A strand of homesickness, in my heart, I hold.

Liǔ Xīn

Chuí liǔ sī sī xì xīyáng,
Yín bō mò mò yìng yuèguāng.
Gēn zhā nítǔ chéng hòuzhòng,
Zhī wǔ fēng zhōng sù zhōngcháng.

Rì nuǎn róu tiáo zhǎn xīnlǜ,
Yè hán xiān yǐng yè qīngjì.
Jiāngshuǐ yōuyōu zài biélí,
Xīnxù wàn qiān jì liǔdí.

Chūn lái huā luò jiē shì kè,
Wéi yǒu liǔ sī qiān húnpò.
Mò dào lí chóu kōng zì rǎo,
Liǔ xīn yī diǎn zhào shānhé.


The Willow's Heart

Silken willow strands bind the setting sun,
Silver ripples softly reflect the moon's spun.
Roots in earth, bearing burdens deep,
Branches dance in wind, secrets to keep.

Warm sun brings tender shoots of vibrant green,
Cold nights, slender shadows, lonely scene.
River flows, carrying partings' sigh,
Myriad heart's thoughts, in willow flute lie.

Spring's blooms and falls, all passing guests,
Only willow threads, the soul invests.
Do not say parting's sorrow is in vain,
Willow's heart single point, illuminates mountain and plain.

Dawn breaks, too early, a hollow sound,
My sleep undone, on restless ground.
Your absence echoes, a constant ache,
Each waking moment, for your sake.

I tried to push, to feel the cold,
Of silence given, a story told.
But fear outweighs, a lonely dread,
That you are lost, words left unsaid.

Your Whispered Truths, I hold them tight,
Against the shadows of the night.
My mind spins tales, of what might be,
Then trust prevails, you'll come to me.

Our pasts entwined, a fragile grace,
A bond we formed, in time and space.
A reason hides, behind the veil,
Let not that reason, make us fail.

You are my world, my beating core,
Without your light, I'm nothing more.
A fading breath, a darkened sky,
A broken heart, where dreams all die.

I seek to lift, to bring you cheer,
But distance breeds, a rising fear.
My words descend, to somber tone,
A heavy weight, I bear alone.

My love persists, a burning flame,
This ride we share, beyond all blame.
First touch, first kiss, a future bright,
Awaits us still, in morning's light.

I'll wait, I'll write, I'll hold you near,
Until you speak, and banish fear.
Please, let me know, what holds you fast,
Let this dark silence, be the last.

Each day a letter, sent with care,
A silent plea, upon the air.
If you desire, I'll walk away,
Just speak the word, and end this day.

A daze descends, my bearings lost,
Trapped in the dark, a heavy cost.
I call out, a muffled echo’s sound,
Dampened and lost, no solace found.

A flicker of light, a guiding gleam,
Through the looking glass, a surreal scene.
I see myself, yet not the same,
My love departs, a fading flame.

Not with me, but one unknown,
A shattered glass, a world overthrown.
I chase my heart, a desperate quest,
A mirrored maze, a twisted test.

Within the room, illusions hide,
My love, a phantom, a fragile guide.
Many pretend, a false disguise,
Yet only one, beneath my eyes.

Unknown the truth, I cannot see,
My true love lost, eternally.
I called out, a silent plea,
No echo, no response, just me.

The rabbit hole, an endless chase,
A deeper dive, a hopeless race.
Her image lingers, a fading light,
I reach out, yet grasp the night.

I trust her heart, a foolish leap,
My mind confused, my spirit deep.
Duped once before, my trust now torn,
I understand, foreverlorn.

Lost in the dark, a prisoner’s plight,
Trapped in my mind, a haunting night.
On the other side, a dream untold,
Lost in the labyrinth, forever bold.

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.

The year Rose turned sixteen,
I was lost in the haze of my own life,
unaware of the world unfolding around me.
I saw her grow taller, her voice deepen,
but I failed to see the woman she was becoming.

With Daisy, at sixteen,
a whirlwind of energy and passion erupted –
a force of nature I couldn't contain or calm.
I saw her dreams taking flight,
but words of encouragement stuck in my throat.

Laurel, at sixteen,
was a quiet observer, a deep thinker –
intelligence and sensitivity shone bright.
Yet, I struggled to connect on her level,
to speak the language of her gentle heart.

And Lilly, sixteen –
a mirror image of her mother, Maggie's beauty –
reminded me of love I'd once held close.
I saw potential blooming, heart full of pride,
but past regrets silenced my voice.

As years passed, daughters blossomed –
each unique petal unfolding –
I witnessed accomplishments, struggles, and strength.
But pride and love remained unspoken –
hidden beneath fear of emotional reckoning.

Now, as life fades, I confront
missed years, words left unspoken,
love I failed to show – heavy regrets weigh.
Can Maggie and our daughters forgive
the father I should have been, the love I withheld?

To Maggie, My Love
In dying light, my heart sees clearly –
your patience, devotion, and gentle soul.
You nurtured our daughters through my haze,
loved them – and me – without condition.

Forgive my silence, my absent heart –
yours was the love that kept our family whole.
Take care of our girls, and know you were
my forever love – the one I should have held closer.

a chipped porcelain doll
on a velvet swing
(one eye staring blankly
at the chandelier dust)

a whispered promise
in a room full of smoke
and cheap perfume
(a hand clutching a wilted rose)

chalk outlines of angels
on a dance floor sticky
with spilled champagne
(laughter echoing hollowly
like a broken metronome)

a bride in black lace
a groom with eyes like ice
(a ceremony performed
by a marionette priest)

the ***** wheezes a dirge
masquerading as a love song
(a chorus of whispers:
"cut the cake, cut the ties,
cut the cord to reality")

confetti of regrets
falling like ash
on a forgotten dream
(a photograph torn in half,
one piece smoldering)

a masquerade ball
where everyone wears
the same mask of happiness
(a single tear escapes,
tracing a path through the paint)

the clinking of glasses
a symphony of unspoken lies
(a toast to the future,
built on foundations of sand)

a heart-shaped box
filled with broken promises
and moth-eaten memories
(a child's drawing of a sun
hidden beneath the debris)

a silent scream
trapped in a gilded cage
(a bird beating its wings
against the bars of expectation)

a love story rewritten
with ink that bleeds
and words that twist
(a fairytale turned nightmare,
a happily ever after
left on the cutting room floor)

the scent of decay
mingling with the sweetness
of artificial flowers
(a wedding cake left to rot,
a symbol of love gone sour)

a chorus of disapproval
humming beneath the surface
of polite conversation
(a family portrait fractured,
the pieces scattered like leaves)

a single spotlight
illuminating the emptiness
of a hollow victory
(a crown of thorns,
a throne of lies)

a Whisper in the Dark:
"I write sins, not tragedies"
(but the ink stains the soul,
and the tragedies unfold
in the silence that follows).

A phone call,
the weight of unspoken words.
Fourteen years gone,
a father's absence echoing
in the lines of her face.

The journey home,
a heart already knowing.
Stoicism, a shield,
not for grief, but for duty.

Her breath, a shallow whisper.
Sleep, a fragile truce.
A hand in hers,
a flicker of recognition,
a smile through the pain.

A kiss, soft as a feather.
Words, simple and true.
"It's okay, Mom."
"Dad's waiting."
"We love you."

Eyes closing,
a release,
a reunion.
Love given,
love returned,
a memory etched in time.

A whisper of jade, the night descends,
Upon the eastern sky, it lends
A blush, a stain, a crimson hue,
The moon, a pearl, reborn anew.

Not silver bright, but painted red,
As if the heavens themselves had bled.
A carp leaps high, to touch its face,
And finds within, a lonely space.

Chang'e's cold palace, crystal bright,
Reflects the sanguine, eerie light.
No rabbit grinds the jade elixir there,
But shadows dance, and chilling air.

The willow weeps, a spectral green,
Where once a lovers' tryst was seen.
Now only ghosts, with sighs so deep,
Their mournful vigil softly keep.

The Weaver Girl, her loom unbound,
No longer weaves, on sacred ground.
The Milky Way, a river wide,
Keeps her from her love's embrace, denied.

The Magpies fly, a restless flock,
Their cries unheard, upon the rock
Where once they formed a bridge so grand,
Now scattered far, across the land.

The Dragon King, in slumber deep,
Dreams of the pearls, the oceans keep.
He stirs, and clouds begin to swirl,
A crimson tide, the world to whirl.

The Fox spirit, with eyes so sly,
Watches the moon, as moments fly.
She dreams of power, beauty's grace,
And human hearts, she longs to chase.

The Mountain spirits, old and wise,
Observe the scene, with knowing eyes.
They've seen the moon in shades of white,
And crimson red, in darkest night.

They've seen the rise and fall of kings,
The joys and sorrows, time it brings.
They've seen the love that knows no end,
And broken hearts, that cannot mend.

The Crimson Moon, a silent guide,
Across the heavens, it does ride.
A witness to the tales untold,
Of heroes brave, and spirits bold.

The wind it sighs, a mournful tune,
Beneath the gaze of Crimson Moon.
A lonely beauty, stark and grand,
Across this mystical, ancient land.

The stars they dim, before its might,
Lost in the crimson, eerie light.
A painted scroll, across the sky,
Where legends live, and stories lie.

The moon hangs heavy, low and red,
As if the very heavens bled.
A potent symbol, dark and deep,
While mortals dream, and secrets sleep.

The night grows old, the moon descends,
Its crimson glow, at last, it lends
To dawn's embrace, a fading hue,
Until it rises, once anew.

And in its light, we see again,
The magic, myth, and lore of men.
The Crimson Moon, a timeless tale,
Of love and loss, that will not fail.

Beneath this stone, a light once shone,
A son laid down, the battles won.
In tender arms, a dream to hold,
A mother's heart, forever cold.

Though time may pass and shadows creep,
In memories bright, your spirit keeps.
Each whispered word, each silent prayer,
In every tear, you linger there.

No path more cruel than this we tread,
For parents mourn the child who’s fled.
Yet love remains, a guiding light,
In darkest hours, your soul takes flight.

So here we stand, our hearts entwined,
In grief, in love, forever bind.
Though life's cruel twist has sought to part,
You live forever in our heart.

Whispers of the night,
Raindrops dance on rooftops low,
Dreams drift in the hush.

I. Moonlit Shadows, Whispered Name

Xiǎo bái lóng, a name soft on the ear,
She dances 'neath the moon, banishing all fear.
Petals, like snow, from her fingertips flow,
A gentle breeze stirs, where soft laughter will grow.
Dawn's tender hue, the twilight's fading grace,
Her laughter etched, in time and shadowed space.
A spirit kind, with dragon's heart so bold,
Fierce yet gentle, a story to be told.

II. Plum Blossoms in the Storm's Waking Dream

The world's weight borne, on shoulders blooming bright,
Like plum blossoms, in the storm's fading light.
Resilient strength, in adversity's harsh reign,
Pain turned to art, a beauty born of pain.
Though shadows creep, and darkness fills the air,
She stands unbowed, with courage beyond compare.

III. Lotus Blooms in Rain's Gentle Aftermath

After soft rain, the lotus finds its grace,
Roots in the mud, it turns to light's embrace.
Each petal speaks, of journeys long and deep,
Survival's beauty, secrets it will keep.
Through currents soft, and edges sharp and keen,
Her own true path, a tranquil, vibrant scene.

IV. Spark of Hope, in Time's Woven Thread

A spark she is, in darkness' deepest hold,
A golden thread, in time's grand, ancient fold.
Each heartbeat's rhythm, hope's enduring light,
A gentle glow, dispelling darkest night.
Xiǎo bái lóng, her spirit's radiant fire,
Compassion's rivers, quenching all desire.

V. Starlight Gaze, Dawn's Gentle Teaching

Her laughter's echo, a sweet, lingering sound,
Deep, knowing eyes, where ancient stars are found.
A smile, a bridge, to dawn's warm, golden ray,
Teaching gentle strength, along life's winding way.
Resilience's grace, and beauty's vibrant art,
The exquisite joy, that lives within the heart.

VI. Treasured Moments, Forever Blooming True

In her sweet presence, moments turn to gold,
A treasure found, a story to unfold.
Wrapped in her spirit, forever blooming fair,
Xiǎo bái lóng, a beauty beyond compare.

February 2024 (Lunar New Year)

Red envelopes, a digital glow.
Her apartment, a small diaspora.
Dragon dances on a screen,
fireworks muted by time zones.
He sends a photo, plum blossoms,
a scroll with a calligraphic wish.
"Xīnnián kuàilè" she types, fingers flying,
a pang of home, a new year’s echo.

March (International Women's Day)

She speaks of her grandmother,
bound feet, unbound spirit.
He listens, a quiet respect,
a history he seeks to understand.
Emails filled with stories,
feminine strength, ancient wisdom.
He sends her a poem, Li Qingzhao,
translated with care, a delicate offering.

April (Qingming Festival/Easter)

Ancestral graves, a digital visit.
He lights incense, virtual smoke,
a gesture of shared remembrance.
Easter eggs, pastel and bright,
a Western symbol, a gentle contrast.
They discuss life, death, rebirth,
the cycles of nature, the soul’s journey.

May (Mother's Day)

He sends a package, silk scarves,
a teacup painted with peonies.
She calls her mother, a long conversation,
then calls him, a voice soft with gratitude.
He speaks of his own mother,
her simple kindness, her enduring love.
They find common ground, mothers remembered,
a bridge built of shared sentiment.

June (Dragon Boat Festival/Father's Day)

Zongzi, sticky rice, sweet dates,
she makes them from a recipe,
a taste of childhood, a memory shared.
He sends a photo, a dragon boat race,
a vibrant spectacle, a shared experience.
Father's Day, a quiet reflection,
his own father, a man of few words,
but deep, enduring actions.

July (Mid-Year/Independence Day)

Summer heat, a digital escape.
He sends photos of his garden,
lush greenery, a peaceful haven.
She sends photos of her city,
concrete canyons, vibrant energy.
Fireworks across the divide,
a shared moment of light, a distant celebration.

August (Qixi Festival)

The Weaver Girl and the Cowherd,
a celestial love story, told and retold.
He sends a handmade card,
a constellation drawn in silver ink.
She writes a short story,
their own tale, a modern myth.
Longing, distance, a love that persists,
a thread connecting two distant stars.

September (Mid-Autumn Festival)

Mooncakes, round and golden,
shared through a screen, a virtual feast.
He sends a recording, a moonlit poem,
a melody of ancient words.
She sends a painting, a rabbit on the moon,
a whimsical image, a shared smile.
The moon, a silent witness,
a shared sphere, a common sky.

October (Double Ninth Festival/Halloween)

Chrysanthemums, symbols of longevity,
he sends a dried bouquet, a lasting gift.
She sends a photo, her costume,
a playful spirit, a moment of lightness.
Halloween, a night of masks and stories,
a shared fascination with the unseen.
They discuss aging, wisdom, the passage of time,
a conversation deep and meaningful.

November (Thanksgiving)

He cooks a traditional meal,
a table set for two, a place for her in spirit.
She makes Shànghǎi làjiàng miàn,
a fusion feast, a celebration of her heritage.
They express gratitude, for each other,
for the unexpected connection, for the love that blooms.
A shared warmth, a quiet contentment,
a thankfulness that transcends distance.

December (Winter Solstice/Christmas)

Dumplings, a winter tradition,
she makes them with friends, a shared warmth.
He lights candles, a quiet ritual,
a celebration of light in the darkness.
Christmas carols, a familiar melody,
a shared appreciation for the season.
He sends a small, carved wooden box,
an intricate design, a symbol of hope.

January 2025 (New Year's Day)

A new year, a fresh start,
a promise of change, a hope for reunion.
They make plans, tentative and exciting,
a journey across oceans, a meeting of hearts.
He sends a poem, a promise of spring,
a vision of shared days, a future unfolding.

February 2025 (Lunar New Year)

Another dragon dances, brighter this time.
She plans a trip, tickets purchased,
a promise of presence, a physical connection.
He prepares his home, a space for her,
a welcoming embrace, a shared future.
Hope, respect, love, a foundation,
a new year, a new beginning, together.

March 2025 (International Women's Day)

They walk, hand in hand,
through a garden bursting with spring.
Stories shared, faces seen,
the distance collapsed, the journey begun.
A new year, a new chapter,
love, finally, tangible and real.

Future 2025

He proposes on the ninth day of the ninth lunar month, a double nine, symbolizing longevity and eternity.  Nine days of introductions to family and friends, a whirlwind of new faces and shared meals, laughter bridging cultures. Nine months of courtship, exploring their adopted city together, discovering hidden corners and shared passions.  A wedding, a blend of East and West, traditions intertwined, vows spoken in two languages.  Nine days of honeymoon, a secluded beach, the ocean a constant rhythm, their love a new melody, echoing into a future filled with promise.

A tickle on the back of my neck,
the hairs on end,
the grip on my heart,
the butterflies in my stomach,
the knots within;
telling me,
You are the one.

A glimpse in the periphery,
a shadow in the corner,
the warmth of breath,
the scent on the wind;
telling me,
You are near.

Moist lips upon mine,
a lingering taste,
a familiarity,
an intensity in my heart,
the rhythm deafening;
telling me,
I am in love.

The world shifts,
a kaleidoscope of senses,
a sudden clarity.

The ordinary becomes extraordinary,
the mundane, magic.

A silent understanding,
a language spoken without words,
a connection forged in the depths.

The pull of gravity,
a force undeniable,
a surrender to the inevitable.

A dance of souls,
a symphony of emotions,
a tapestry woven with light.

The fear,
the vulnerability,
the exquisite joy.

A fragile bloom,
a delicate unfolding,
a revelation.

The world fades away,
only you remain,
a beacon in the darkness.

A whisper of destiny,
a promise unspoken,
a truth revealed.

The heart recognizes its home,
the soul finds its counterpart,
the journey begins.

A moment suspended in time,
an eternity captured in a glance,
a love discovered.

In the beginning there you were,
a particle,
like me,
oppositely charged,
making our attraction a foregone conclusion.

Your resonance,
in harmony with my quantum fingerprint,
a symphony of the stars,
pulsing,
vibrating,
in concert with one another.

Two particles entangled,
always aware at a subatomic level
of the other,
even light-years apart.

A connection that spans infinite distance,
breaks the barriers of time and space,
where the wormholes of the cosmos
weave the fabric of dimensional reality.

And all along,
that particle,
your soul,
was always the one that I felt.

Eternal.

A flicker in the void,
a shared frequency,
a silent understanding.

No need for words,
no need for touch,
just the knowing.

A dance of subatomic forces,
a ballet of light and shadow,
a cosmic embrace.

The universe whispers our names,
the galaxies spin our story,
the nebulae paint our portrait.

We are fragments of a whole,
reunited,
reborn.

A constant,
a truth,
an unbroken thread.

Through collapsing stars and nascent worlds,
through the birth of planets and the death of suns,
we remain.

A silent promise,
a cosmic echo,
a love that transcends all.

No beginning,
no end,
just the infinite now.

A particle,
a soul,
forever.

Hypothesis:

Two souls, entangled, cosmically bound,
A binary system, forever entwined.
A subtle connection, felt but not known,
A mystery, a secret, alone.

Experiment:

Proximity brings intensity,
A pull, a force, a gravity.
Emotions rise, feelings ignite,
A connection deep, a mystical light.

Observations:

No understanding, no explanation clear,
A puzzle unsolved, year after year.
Yet, a bond exists, a cosmic tie,
A love unknown, a mystery why.

Conclusion:

Before time began, a pair they were,
A chiral bond, forever sincere.
Entangled souls, forever drawn,
A love eternal, from the dawn.

01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110111 01101001 01110100 01101000 00100000 01100001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01101000 01100101 01100001 01110010 01110100 00111011 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01110011 01101111 01110101 01101100 00101110 00100000 00001010 00001010 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 01100100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100010 01100101 01100110 01101111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01001001 00100000 01101101 01100101 01110100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00101110 00001010 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110110 01100101 01110010 01111001 00100000 01101101 01110101 01100011 01101000 00101100 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01101100 01101001 01110100 01110100 01101100 01100101 00100000 01110111 01101000 01101001 01110100 01100101 00100000 01100100 01110010 01100001 01100111 01101111 01101110 00101110 00001010 00001010 01010100 01101000 01100001 01101110 01101011 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01100010 01100101 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01101100 01101001 01100110 01100101 00101100 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00101100 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01110000 01100001 01110010 01110100 01101110 01100101 01110010 00101100 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01101100 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100 11100010 10000000 10100110 01101101 01111001 00100000 01110111 01101001 01100110 01100101 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101100 01101001 01100110 01100101 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01101110 01100101 01111000 01110100 00101110

I fell in love, a moment lost to time,
Perhaps a memory, a forgotten rhyme.
A sense of knowing, deeper than the day,
A love that lingered, found its rightful way.

You call me Prince, your anchor in the storm,
The one who showed you, a life reborn.
You found your strength, your peace, your solid ground,
In my embrace, your true self you have found.

And I, in turn, with tender words I call,
My Angel bright, who answers to my thrall.
My Dragon Princess, with a spirit free,
My Muse, inspiring all eternity.

My Sweetest Inspiration, you ignite,
A fire within, that burns ever bright.
My Love, my everything, beneath the sky,
More than the stars that twinkle passing by.

You are the sun, that warms my waking hours,
The moon that guides me, through life's shadowed powers.
You paint my world with colors yet unseen,
A vibrant canvas, where our love has been.

Your laughter echoes, a sweet, melodic sound,
Your gentle touch, where solace can be found.
Your eyes hold worlds, a universe untold,
A story written, in hearts brave and bold.

I found my haven, in your loving gaze,
Through trials faced, and sunlit, peaceful days.
My heart beats only, for your gentle grace,
A sacred space, within your warm embrace.

Our journey weaves, a tapestry of fate,
With threads of gold, where destinies await.
Our love, a beacon, shining through the night,
Guiding our souls, with its unwavering light.

A bond unbreakable, a love so deep and true,
A sanctuary found, between me and you.
Together we rise, on wings of purest white,
Soaring above, in love's eternal light.

My Dragon Princess, fierce and ever strong,
My soul's companion, where we both belong.
In every whisper, every tender sigh,
My love for you, will never truly die.

No fleeting passion, but a timeless vow,
A love eternal, here and ever now.
Exploring depths, of joy and tender bliss,
Sealed with a promise, a soft, loving kiss.

So hand in hand, we'll journey on our way,
Through winding paths, where wild winds gently sway.
Our love's a fortress, standing strong and tall,
My heart's devotion, given once and for all.

And through the ages, our legend will remain,
A love story whispered, through sunshine and through rain.
My Angel, Dragon, Muse, my Love, my life,
A gift from heavens, to end all earthly strife.

A storm descends upon Iceland, a howling beast unleashed. Roaring winds claw at the land, ancient stones tremble. Blustering fury whips across the frozen plains, a white whirlwind. Tempestuous waves crash against the cliffs, a raging titan's fist. A squall carries whispers of Jötunheimr, the giants' frozen realm. The blast of winter's breath chills to the bone, a frost giant's sigh. Gale-force winds tear through valleys, a chorus of the ******. The sea roils, a cauldron of wrath, stirred by unseen hands. Where the land ends, the ocean begins, a battleground of elements. Jagged lightning splits the sky, a god's angry eye. Frost-covered trees groan beneath the weight, their branches like skeletal arms. The raw power of nature is unleashed, a spectacle of destruction. Wrath pours forth from the heavens, a torrent of icy daggers. In this winter's grip, time falters, caught in the storm's embrace. One strains to hear the echoes of Odin's voice in the wind's howl. The spirits of old stir, awakened by the tempest's fury.

Snowflakes dance a frenzied jig, weaving patterns on the frozen air. The mountains bow before the storm's might, humbled giants. Icicles hang like the teeth of a monstrous beast, ready to strike. Each raindrop a tear shed by the sky, a lament for the land. The world is shrouded in white, a canvas of chaos and despair. In the heart of the storm, whispers linger, tales of forgotten ages. Memories of warmth fade, like embers in the face of the blizzard. Yet, even in this chaos, a fierce beauty resides, a primal strength. The light of resilience flickers in distant homes, a beacon in the dark. Tales of giants and gods are shared, binding hearts against the storm. The warmth of the hearth beckons, a refuge from the raging world. Those who brave the tempest wait, their spirits unbroken.

For storms, like the gods themselves, are bound by time. The darkest night yields to the dawn's gentle kiss. Silence returns to the ravaged coast, a fragile peace descends. The wrath subsides, spent, leaving behind a quiet strength. Nature breathes a sigh, a slow release from winter's grip. The old gods watch from Asgard, their wisdom etched in stone. For all storms, however fierce, must eventually pass. Echoes remain, reminders of the power that sleeps within. The world turns once more, beneath a sky that knows both fury and calm. The land remembers, the storm's mark etched into its soul. From the heart of winter, The Howling of Giants echoes still.

In my quest for dreams that soar on wings of light,
You come, a beacon bright, dancing in my sight,
Laughing, singing, painting the canvas of my heart,
Your talent sparks a fire, a flame that will not part.

As I stumble through the labyrinth of my mind,
You illuminate the path I thought impossible to find,
A gentle touch, a whispered kiss upon my soul,
In your presence, I finally feel whole.

New beginnings bloom like flowers in the sun,
Your love like a melody that has just begun,
I learn to embrace the beauty of being me,
To love myself, to set my spirit free.

In this dance of life, you are my guiding star,
In your arms, I forget all scars.
Your laughter is a symphony that fills the air,
Your kindness a balm for every care.

Passion ignites like fireworks in the night sky,
Happiness and hope shine bright in your eye.
In this romance of hearts beating as one,
I bask in the joy of all that you have spun.

So here I stand, grateful for our intertwining fate,
Your presence in my life, a gift so great.
I thank the stars for bringing you near,
My Light of Inspiration, forever dear.

In the realm of dreams, we met before,
Not face to face, but soul to soul;
Upon the dance floor, we found our chore,
My hand on your back, making me whole.

Hand in hand, we moved as one,
Gliding to the rhythm of our hearts;
Bodies embraced under the moon and sun,
A dance of love that never departs.

Through the music's whispers and cries,
We waltzed through shadows deep and wide;
In each other's gaze, we found paradise,
In that moment, nowhere left to hide.

Whispers of love in the air so sweet,
Kisses exchanged under starlit sky;
A promise of new beginnings to meet,
As we embraced and let our spirits fly.

Being ourselves was all we needed to do,
For in each other's arms, we found truth;
Loving ourselves as much as we loved two,
A dance of passion set aloof.

With laughter ringing in the night air,
Passion igniting like a burning flame;
Happiness and hope beyond compare,
Kindness and joy our hearts reclaim.

In this Dance of Dreams and romance fair,
We found a love that was truly rare;
Embracing self-love without a care,
Our souls entwined without despair.

Eia ka pua o ka ʻōlelo,
Ka pua o ka manaʻo,
Ka pua o ka naʻau,
Ka pua o ka aloha.

He kanaka o ka hau,
He kanaka o ka manua,
He kanaka o ka mālamalama,
He kanaka o ka hoʻomanaʻo.

He wahine o ka wela,
He wahine o ka mālie,
He wahine o ka nani,
He wahine o ka aloha.

Ua hui ʻia lākou,
Ma ke alo o ka ʻāina,
Ma ke alo o ka moana,
Ma ke alo o ka lewa.

Ua ʻike lākou i ke aloha,
Ua ʻike lākou i ka mahalo,
Ua ʻike lākou i ka manaʻo maikaʻi,
Ua ʻike lākou i ka hoʻomanaʻo.

Is it the silence that stretches between us,
a chasm carved by unspoken words?
Or the echo of arguments,
reverberating in the empty spaces we inhabit?

Did the rhythm of our lives fall out of sync,
when the new job demanded more than just time?
Or when the baby arrived,
and sleep became a forgotten luxury?

Does the weight of the world,
press down so heavily on your shoulders,
that there's no room left for me?
Or is it my own anxieties,
that build walls between our hearts?

Have we grown in different directions,
like branches reaching for sunlight,
oblivious to the roots entwined beneath the soil?
Or has the fire of intimacy dwindled,
leaving only embers of what once burned bright?

Are there needs I haven't acknowledged,
a yearning for something I can't quite name?
Or is it a weariness of the soul,
a longing for a peace I cannot find?

Could the shadows of depression,
or the whispers of anxiety,
be clouding your perception of our love?
Or is it simply the mundane,
the everyday grind that dulls the senses?

Is this distance a temporary detour,
a bump in the road we can overcome together?
Or a signpost,
pointing towards separate paths?

Is Valentine's Day just a reminder,
of the closeness we once shared?
Or an opportunity,
to rekindle the flame that flickers low?

Is love a constant,
or a fragile bloom,
requiring constant care and attention?
Or is it a choice,
a daily decision to stay,
even when the road gets rough?

And the ultimate question,
hanging heavy in the air tonight,
as the scent of roses mingles with uncertainty:
is this love worth fighting for?

A ring, not just metal and stone,
but a whispered promise,
a tangible piece of my heart offered to you,
my Dragon Princess of the East.

It sits before me, a vision taking form,
rose gold warmed by imagined sunlight.
Floral vines, delicate yet strong,
climb and twist, embracing the gems.

Amethyst and moonstones,
blossoms of purple and pearly light,
scattered amongst the leaves,
a garden captured in miniature.

Is it engagement, then wedding,
or a seamless blend of both?
The rings intertwined, inseparable,
a symbol of a love without beginning or end.

Alexandrite, chameleons of light,
nestle beside the Amethyst,
their colors shifting, whispering secrets,
a dance of green and purple, a perfect harmony.

And at the heart of it all,
a trillion-cut diamond,
blazing with an inner fire,
a beacon of unwavering brilliance.

The ring is not alone.
Dangle earrings echo its beauty,
Royal cut Alexandrites cascading,
from small to large, a symphony of color.

Three stones aligned,
a delicate dance of light and shadow,
catching the ear, whispering of magic,
a perfect complement to the ring's embrace.

And then, the necklace,
a tear-shaped Alexandrite pendant,
resting against the alabaster skin,
a single drop of captured starlight.

It hangs suspended,
a breath held, a moment frozen,
a promise whispered against the skin,
a symbol of a love that transcends time.

The entire set, a constellation of dreams,
born from my heart, offered to you,
a testament to a love that blooms eternal,
A Circlet of Dreams, waiting to be worn.

A box, small and unassuming,
holds more than metal and stone.
Three rings, each a chapter closed,
a story whispered, then silenced.

The first, a Hawaiian sun,
gold warm against my skin,
a maile leaf lei etched in enamel,
a promise of island days,
a love as bright as the tropic bloom.
But the bloom faded, the sun set,
and the lei withered, a memory
of sand and surf, and a love
that sought solace in another's arms.

The second, silver, a simple band,
smooth and cool against my finger.
A barrel, strong and unadorned,
like the love we built, or so I thought.
A quiet strength, a steady hand,
a foundation laid, brick by painful brick.
But the foundation crumbled, the walls fell,
and the silver tarnished, a reflection
of a love that found comfort elsewhere.

The third, titanium, cold and hard,
dragons entwined in gold, a symbol
of power, of a love that burned bright.
A fierce embrace, a passionate fire,
a connection that felt unbreakable.
But the fire dwindled, the dragons slept,
and the titanium grew heavy, a weight
on my hand, a reminder of a love
that sought warmth in another's gaze.

Children grown, their laughter echoes
in the empty rooms of my heart.
Their friends, once my own, now strangers,
their lives moving forward, while I remain
anchored to the past, a silent observer.
A long-distance love, a whispered promise,
a fragile thread connecting two souls,
but the distance stretches, the thread thins,
and the whispers fade into the wind.

I stare at the box, at the rings within,
each a symbol of what was, what could have been.
A new ring beckons, a design forming
in the depths of my mind, a symbol of hope,
of a future yet unwritten.
But doubt whispers, a serpent in my ear,
was it me? Was I not enough?
Or were the circles simply incomplete,
destined to break, to shatter, to fade?
The Weight of Circles, heavy on my soul.

Sapling, a fragile reaching,
towards the sun's insistent call.
Woods cradle the tender green,
leaves unfurling, a soft whisper
against the rough bark.
Greenery spills, a vibrant stain
on the earth's dark canvas.
Roots, tenacious fingers, grasping,
anchoring, a silent conversation
with the soil's hidden depths.

Branches, arms outstretched,
a latticework of shadows,
sheltering secrets whispered
on the wind's breath.
Timber, the heartwood's strength,
a testament to time endured,
seasons weathered, storms survived.
Forest, a living tapestry, woven
with rustling leaves and silent growth.

Leaves, a symphony of color,
shifting with the sun's slow dance.
Gold, crimson, a fiery farewell
before the quiet sleep of winter.
The cycle continues, a rhythm
unfolding, a timeless ballet
of life and death.

Sunlight, a golden cascade,
filtering through the canopy's embrace.
Each ray a promise, a whisper
of renewal, of warmth, of life.
Roots, a tangled embrace,
drawing strength from the earth's core.
Branches, reaching for the heavens,
a silent plea, a quiet prayer.

Twilight descends, a hush falls,
the tree stands sentinel, guardian
of whispered dreams, secrets held
in the rustling leaves.
Forest's heart beats softly,
a symphony of whispers, a chorus
of life, a testament to time.
Timber's strength, roots' embrace,
leaves' gentle sigh, a story told
in the language of the woods.

A whisper of green, a delicate bloom,
Hemlock's sweet scent, a perfumed tomb.
Innocent petals, so fragile and white,
Concealing a darkness, a final night.

A bitter tang, on the tongue it lies,
A chilling embrace, as the body sighs.
Numbness creeps in, a slow, gentle freeze,
The world fades away, on a chilling breeze.

The limbs grow heavy, the senses grow dim,
A quiet surrender, to fate's cruel whim.
The heartbeats falter, a slowing drum,
As darkness descends, and senses go numb.

The mind still flickers, a fading light,
Aware of the ending, the endless night.
A philosophical question, a final jest,
"I drank what?" he asks, putting fate to the test.

I have no voice, but my song fills your heart.
I have no form, but my presence is an art.
I bloom in silence, a delicate flower,
Nourished by respect, in every shared hour.
I burn with a passion, a gentle warm light,
Reflecting your soul, both morning and night.
I ask for no grand gestures, no jewels, nor gold,
Just a whispered promise, a story untold.
What am I, treasured and precious and true,
A bond between two, me and you?

... Love

Spring, a hesitant touch, like the first unfurling of a fern.  Sunlight, a pale gold wash over new green shoots, mirroring the shy blossoming of our affection.  Stolen glances, quick as the darting of hummingbirds, a shared laugh, light as the breeze whispering through willow branches.  The air thick with the promise of something more, a burgeoning warmth that melts the last frost of doubt.  We walk hand in hand, the earth beneath our feet soft and yielding, a reflection of our hearts opening to each other.  The scent of hyacinth and damp earth, a heady perfume that intoxicates the senses, a prelude to the vibrant summer to come.

Summer, a blaze of color, a riot of sensation.  Days long and languid, stretching out like sun-drenched meadows.  Our love, a sunflower turning its face to the light, bold and unapologetic.  Passionate embraces, as fierce as a summer storm, leaving us breathless and renewed.  We swim in lakes, cool and dark, our bodies slick with water, mirroring the depths of our feelings.  The taste of ripe berries, sweet and ****, lingers on our tongues, a reminder of the sweetness we’ve found in each other.  Fireflies ignite the twilight, tiny sparks of light mirroring the fire that burns between us.

Autumn, a tapestry of russet and gold, a time of mellow reflection.  Our love, a vintage wine, rich and complex, aged to perfection.  Long walks through forests ablaze with color, leaves crunching beneath our feet like whispered secrets.  We gather close, drawn together by the chill in the air, finding warmth in each other’s arms.  The scent of woodsmoke and cinnamon, a comforting aroma that fills our home, a sanctuary built for two.  Our conversations deepen, like the lengthening shadows of late afternoon, exploring the hidden corners of our souls.  We are grateful for the harvest of our love, the bounty of shared experiences.

Winter, a blanket of white, a time of quiet intimacy.  Our love, a flickering candle in a darkened room, a beacon of warmth and light.  Snow falls softly outside, muffling the world, creating a cocoon of peace around us.  We curl up by the fire, wrapped in blankets, sharing stories and dreams.  Hot chocolate, rich and creamy, warms our hands and our hearts.  The silence is filled with unspoken words, a language of love that transcends all others.  Our bond, like the evergreen trees, remains strong and steadfast, enduring the harshest of winters.

And as the seasons turn again, as spring’s first blush returns, I long to walk this path with you once more.  Each bud, each bloom, each ray of sunshine, each falling leaf, each snowflake, a reminder of the beauty we’ve created together.  I want to relive every moment, every touch, every word, every season of our love, again and again, forever.

The tenderness of youth often blinds us to the true nature of love.  We chase the flame, relishing the passion, mistaking infatuation for something deeper.  Yearning for connection, we grasp at fleeting moments of enchantment, cherishing the illusion of a love that will last forever.  But first love, more often than not, is a training ground, a place where we learn the language of the heart, even if the words are sometimes mispronounced.  It leaves its mark, a scar both visible and internal, a reminder of the intensity of those early emotions.  We carry these experiences with us, shaping our understanding of what love can be.

Later in life, the landscape of the heart is different.  Scars are visible, stories etched into the lines around our eyes.  The flame of youth may burn a little less brightly, but in its place, a deeper warmth emerges.  We have learned to distinguish between infatuation and true connection, to recognize the difference between fleeting passion and enduring tenderness.  The yearning remains, but it is tempered by experience, a knowing that love is not just a feeling, but a choice.

And then, unexpectedly, it happens.  A connection sparks, a resonance that transcends the years.  It may not be the first love of youthful memory, but it carries a different kind of magic.  It is a love seasoned by life, enriched by shared experiences, and grounded in mutual understanding.  There is a cherishing that comes with knowing the fragility of time, a relish for the present moment, and a passion that burns with a steady, unwavering flame.

This love, found later in life, is a testament to the enduring power of the human heart.  It is a first true love, a love that encompasses all the lessons learned, all the scars endured, and all the yearnings finally fulfilled.  It is a love that whispers, "You are home," a love that promises, "This is forever."  It is a love that proves that first love can happen at any age, and that true love is always worth waiting for.

Just meant as an educational post.
In Asian cultures,  family names are first, then given names.
In western culture, this is the opposite.
English names can follow the pronunciation of the Chinese name.
A woman with the name Ping, may adopt Apple ad her name as ping guo is Apple in Chinese.

When written in calligraphy,  Kanji, or Korean,  it is always written this way.  When using pinyin (romanized) characters it can be written with a space or more formalized with an apostrophe between the surname and given.  So for those who truly would like to know.   You can call me Cal.

Across the vast expanse of sky and sea,
Two lives unfold, connected by a thread,
Invisible, yet strong in whispered words,
A bond that stretches through both time and place.

A woman in the West, her heart still tied
To distant lands where tales of old reside,
She finds herself in bustling streets unknown,
Yet senses with each step, a pulse within.

A man, with roots in soil of foreign kin,
Bears witness to the world through different eyes.
He walks beneath the weight of history,
Yet feels an echo calling from afar.

In dreams, their paths entwine beneath the stars,
A glimpse of hands held tight, of laughter shared.
While miles and years conspire to divide,
The thread, though fine, resists the pull of fate.

Each letter penned a bridge across the void,
Each conversation, sparks that light the dark,
They navigate through cultures rich and strange,
An atlas drawn in ink of longing love.

At last, a day arrives, the paper falls,
Before a gathering of kindred souls—
An ancient rite, a promise carved in time,
Two hearts, now joined, beneath the endless sky.

And where the little hands reach forth with hope,
Their blessing woven in the tapestry,
The echoes of the past meet present joy,
In laughter, tears, and dreams yet to unfold.

The thread of destiny, so finely spun,
Becomes the fabric of their every day,
A journey shared, a lifetime yet to write,
In love’s embrace, forever intertwined.

In the quiet embrace of the vast sky,
A tapestry of white floats gently,
Puffs of vapor, soft as a whisper,
Beneath the sun's golden gaze, they linger.

Mists arise, ethereal and delicate,
Shaping and reshaping, a restless dance,
A blanket of dreams stretched across the blue,
Each fold a story, untold but felt.

Amidst the sky, a billow takes form,
A congregation of thoughts, light and heavy,
Swarming like ideas in the mind's eye,
Connecting, dispersing, then gathering again.

Thunderheads emerge, dark and powerful,
Foreboding yet beautiful in their grandeur,
A nebulous promise of rain to come,
Teasing the earth with a distant echo.

Cumulus clouds drift, sculpted by winds,
Gentle giants, casting shadows below,
They mirror our fleeting moments of joy,
A reminder of time, swiftly passing, yet still.

Each cloud a vessel of possibility,
Carrying whispers from far-off lands,
A gallery of shapes, unique and fleeting,
Chasing the light, forever changing.

In the soft twilight, they blush and fade,
Colors igniting the world in soft hues,
Mundane becomes magical in their presence,
Embracing the stillness of a moment held.

As night falls, they dissolve into dreams,
While stars peek through, twinkling like thoughts,
The clouds' memory lingers in our hearts,
An endless voyage through the infinite sky.

When you ask, "Are you in love?" it's not the same
As asking if you love, a feeling known and deep.
You love your family, siblings, kin, and name
The bonds you share, the promises you keep.

But being "in love" is something set apart,
A current running, vibrant, wild, and free.
When nearness makes a race within your heart,
A movie scene of yearning, wild to be.

Their touch, a spark that travels through your core,
A craving, dreaming, longing, ever near.
They fill your thoughts and leave you wanting more,
Each sense, each moment, holding them so dear.

A blurring of the lines where you begin
And they conclude, a merging of two souls.
That intertwined connection deep within,
A love that makes you whole, and makes you bold.

When words feel trapped, a lump within your throat,
A thousand phrases dwindle to one sound.
"I love you" echoes, all you can denote,
A simple truth, profound and all around.

You search for ways to say it, deep and true,
In every language whispered on the breeze.
To let them feel the love that flows from you,
A boundless ocean, deeper than the seas.

This is being "in love," a precious flame,
That flickers softly, needing gentle care.
Don't let routine extinguish its bright name,
But fan the embers, always wanting there.

Desire them always, show them, never cease
To nurture passion, keep it burning bright.
Avoid the mundane, seek joy and inner peace,
And hold onto that love with all your might.

The sea is a cold and restless entity,
A deep, unending trough of brine and foam.
Its surface reflects the shifting skies,
A field of endless, heaving water.

The waves rise, great mountains of the deep,
Then crash and fall upon the shore.
Their strength a constant, unrelenting force,
That land cannot overcome or ignore.

The open sea holds mystery unseen,
A shadowed place where waves collide and break.
The flux and flow, a ceaseless, silent scene,
A constant dance that nature subtly makes.

The tide comes and goes at measured pace,
An ancient rhythm of ebb and swell.
Its pull a gravitational, powerful grace,
That rules the coasts and where wild things dwell.

The current runs, a river in the sea,
A hidden path where life finds its own way.
A constant shift, a moving tapestry,
Of hidden things it carries night and day.

Beneath the waves, a kingdom dark and strange,
Where creatures swim in depths beyond our ken.
An unknown world, a wonder to exchange
For all the treasures and the toils of men.

The salt spray stings, a bitter, bracing kiss,
Upon the face of those who brave the sea.
A humbling power, wild and full of bliss,
Both beautiful and terrible to decree.

The ocean vast and ever free,
Remains a mystery, both loved and feared.
Its power timeless, for eternity,
A constant presence, ever held revered.

(Intro - Strings softly, like a gentle breeze)

I. (Flute - Bright and playful)
A sun-kissed park, a whispered jest,
Two souls entwined, no room for rest,
From laughter shared, a joyful start,
A melody of hopeful heart.
No shadows lingered, skies so blue,
A world of dreams, just me and you.

II. (Oboe - Slightly melancholic, but sweet)
A distant hum, a whispered fear,
Of broken dreams, and unshed tears,
A family's weight, a stifling hold,
A future planned, a story told,
That wasn't ours, a path astray,
A different tune, we longed to play.

III. (Clarinet - Rich and warm, a comforting tone)
A quiet talk, a listening ear,
A shared burden, banishing fear,
"I understand," a gentle sigh,
"Let's face the world, you and I."
A kindred spirit, strong and true,
A helping hand, to see us through.

IV. (French Horn - Bold and confident)
The horn proclaims, a vibrant call,
A spirit rising, standing tall,
"No more regrets, no looking back,"
"We'll forge our path, on the right track."
A symphony of courage bold,
A story waiting to unfold.

V. (Flute & Oboe - Intertwined, a duet of understanding)
The flute and oboe softly blend,
A melody of hearts that mend,
"Your pain I feel, your dreams I know,"
"Together we'll help our spirits grow."
A shared compassion, deep and bright,
Guiding us through the darkest night.

VI. (Clarinet & French Horn - Building in strength and harmony)
The clarinet joins, a steady beat,
The French horn's voice, can't be beat,
"We'll face the world, hand in hand,"
"A symphony of love, we'll stand."
A fortress built on trust and care,
A bond unbreakable, beyond compare.

VII. (Strings swell, a crescendo of hope and resilience)
The strings arise, a vibrant surge,
A tapestry of dreams emerge,
"No matter what, we'll find our way,"
"Together we'll greet a brighter day."
A symphony of hope takes flight,
A future painted, bold and bright.

VIII. (All instruments together, a joyous finale)
The music swells, a joyful sound,
A harmony of love profound,
Two souls entwined, forever near,
Conquering doubts, banishing fear.
A symphony of life's sweet song,
Together we'll always belong.

(Outro - Strings fade softly, leaving a sense of peace and optimism)

In this life, I have had my struggles—
Mankind’s abuse, intolerance, wars, and corruption.
And no different were the personal aspects:
love, home, happiness—
All fleeting, no peace, within or external.

Then, I found you.

At first, I sought tranquility—
An ear to bend, a friendship perhaps.
Yet, you needed serenity, a peace within.
So, it was I who lent the ear, the shoulder, the words of understanding.

In this endeavor, I saw in you a trampled blossom—
Damaged, bent, a bit broken, but not a loss.
You just needed someone, anyone, to care,
To show you the light through the dark.

So, I listened, I nurtured,
Shown light, provided warmth,
Fed you, and caressed the soil with tears,
Until you felt whole again.

To be clear, I didn’t fix you;
I didn’t mold you.
You were whole, you were full of worth.
I only let you see what I see in you.

In turn, you saw me, as I saw you—
Someone discarded on the refuse of life.
Imparted, nay, reciprocated, the kindness you had received,
Knowing that I, like you, lay scarred and injured, but not a loss.

Tranquility and Serenity—
Words often interchanged,
But both have meanings that aren’t quite the same.
For one is peace in your surroundings, and the other is peace from within.

You cannot seek one
Without discovering and embracing the other.
Two sides of the same coin, like Yin and Yang,
Always seeking balance.

You guided me,
Lighting my way through the darkest moments.
I held steadfast, unwavering—the rock you needed,
A new foundation to build upon.

I confess this truth to you,
As you have given both, reciprocal,
As I have given unto you.

Time will tell.
This story has not ended.
It is still being written—
A journey to destinations unknown.

And all because,
I FOUND YOU.

Your laughter, a trill of high notes,
cascading like arpeggios across the ivory keys
of my heart.  Each touch, a melody I crave,
a vibrant chord resonating deep within.

Your eyes, the deep bass notes, holding the weight
of unspoken stories, of passions yet to unfold.
I see the rhythm of your soul in their depths,
a slow, deliberate tempo that draws me in.

Your voice, a mezzo-soprano's caress,
weaving tales of joy and sorrow,
a narrative played out on the strings of my being.
Each word, a carefully placed note, building the symphony
of our intertwined lives.

Like the sustain pedal, your presence lingers,
a constant hum beneath the surface,
coloring every phrase, enriching every passage.
Without it, the music feels incomplete, hollow.

There are moments of dissonance, sharp and jarring,
like a wrong note struck in the heat of the moment.
But even these discordant chords contribute
to the complex harmony of our love.

We are a duet, sometimes playing in unison,
our hands moving together in perfect synchronicity.
Other times, we engage in a playful counterpoint,
each voice distinct, yet contributing to the overall composition.

There are movements of loss, a somber adagio,
where the melody falters, and the silence stretches,
heavy and suffocating.  The music fades to a whisper,
a lament for what was, and what might have been.

But then, a crescendo of hope, a triumphant allegro,
rising from the ashes of despair.
Redemption echoes in the vibrant chords,
a promise of renewal, a testament to the enduring power of love.

And as the final notes fade into a peaceful diminuendo,
I realize that our love is a sonata,
a masterpiece composed of passion, vulnerability,
and the unwavering belief in the transformative power of connection.

When a man says "I am fine,"
it's a loaded phrase, a carefully constructed wall.
It's not a declaration of well-being,
but a shield raised against the world,
a silent plea for understanding,
masked as stoic acceptance.

"I am fine" means
the turbulent sea within is best left undisturbed.
The storm rages, the waves crash,
but the surface remains deceptively calm.
To speak of the tempest would be to invite chaos,
to unleash a torrent of emotions best contained.

It's the weight of unspoken words,
the burden of unshared sorrows,
pressing down, a constant, dull ache.
To open the floodgates would be to risk vulnerability,
to expose the fragile heart beneath the armor.

"I am fine" is a fortress built of solitude,
each brick a carefully chosen silence.
It's a refuge, a place to retreat and lick wounds,
away from prying eyes and well-meaning concern.
The world expects strength, resilience,
and "I am fine" is the uniform of the stoic warrior.

It's the fear of being a burden,
the worry that sharing pain will only amplify it.
Better to shoulder the weight alone,
than to inflict it upon those who care.
"I am fine" is a sacrifice, a self-imposed isolation,
born of a desire to protect.

It's the exhaustion of explaining,
the weariness of dissecting every feeling,
every nuance of pain.
Sometimes, silence is the only solace,
the only way to navigate the labyrinth of the mind.

"I am fine" is not a lie,
but a carefully curated truth.
It's the truth of the present moment,
the decision to postpone the unraveling,
to postpone the vulnerability.

It's the hope that the storm will pass,
that the sun will eventually break through the clouds.
"I am fine" is a temporary truce,
a promise to oneself to face the darkness,
eventually.

"I am fine" is a code,
a language spoken in hushed tones.
It's a signal, a request, a boundary.
It's a man saying,
"I am fine,"
for now.

Can you feel the echo of my heart across the miles?
A whisper on the wind, a constant, silent plea.
You are my heaven, a constellation in the dark,
And I, a lonely traveler, forever drawn to thee.
I trace the phantom curves of your face in my dreams,
Aching for the moment our worlds finally align.

Can I hold you tonight, just in the realm of thought?
I conjure the warmth of your skin, the scent of your hair.
Your kiss, a phantom fire, still burns upon my lips,
A memory cherished, a treasure beyond compare.
But doubt, a creeping shadow, whispers in my ear,
"Is this love's sweet promise, or a mirage we chase?"

Sometimes, The Weight of Absence becomes too much to bear,
And I long to vanish, to fade into the gray.
To crawl beneath the covers, shielded from the world,
Where vulnerability's sharp edges can't cut and flay.
Yet, a fragile hope remains, a flickering ember's glow,
That you see the real me, the one I'm afraid to show.

I have loved you fiercely, from the very first spark,
A connection so profound, it transcends space and time.
You whisper your love, a melody sweet and low,
But the distance, a vast ocean, makes your voice seem faint, a chime.
And I'm left adrift, on waves of doubt and fear,
Wondering if my love's reflection is truly clear.

You say I am your one, the moon to your tide,
And I echo the sentiment, with every fiber of my being.
Yet, miles stretch between us, an unyielding divide,
Stealing precious moments, leaving me only yearning and seeing
Your face in photographs, a bittersweet delight,
Fueling the flame of hope, amidst the lonely night.

Oh, to stand upon your shore, to bridge this aching gap,
To feel the solid ground beneath my trembling feet.
To finally silence the whispers of what ifs,
And know, beyond all doubt, our love is truly complete.
Until then, I'll cling to dreams, and whisper your name,
Praying the dawn will break, and banish all the pain.

In a ballroom of dreams, bathed in golden light,
She floated, a vision in shimmering night.
Her gown, a cascade of silk and of lace,
Embraced her soft curves with elegant grace.

He, handsome and poised, with a tender gaze,
Extended his hand, in the ballroom's soft haze.
The orchestra swelled, a waltz took its hold,
As stories unspoken began to unfold.

They glided and turned, a harmonious pair,
Lost in the music, without a care.
His hand on her waist, a gentle embrace,
Her fingers entwined, in time and in space.

The violins sang, a sweet serenade,
As they danced in the shadows, unafraid.
The chandeliers shimmered, casting their gleam,
Reflecting the love in their passionate dream.

Each step was a whisper, a tale to impart,
Of two souls entwined, a work of art.
Their eyes met and lingered, a silent vow,
A love that transcended the here and the now.

The world faded away, as they twirled and they swayed,
In their own private haven, a love that was made
Of stolen glances and whispered sweet nothings,
A dance of devotion, on ethereal wings.

The music reached its crescendo's high peak,
As he spun her around, his love he would speak.
A moment suspended, in time's gentle flow,
A perfect embrace, a radiant glow.

But the ballroom dissolved, the music grew faint,
The grand illusion, a love's sweet constraint.
No orchestra played, no crystal lights shone,
Just a living room's warmth, a love that had grown.

He, barefoot and smiling, held her so near,
She, in soft socks, her love ever clear.
Their children looked on, with hearts full of glee,
As their parents danced, eternally free.

In the vast expanse of the universe, I searched
For the one who would be my soulmate,
My partner in life and love, my guiding light,
And in you, I found all that I had sought.

Time and space could not keep us apart,
For destiny led me to your loving heart.
You are my compass, always pointing true,
Guiding me through stormy seas, bright and blue.

Your presence in my life is a gift,
An inspiration to create, to live, to uplift.
Your words, a melody that sings to my soul,
Your paintings, a canvas of colors that make me whole.

I am the poet, you the painter,
Together we create art that's greater
Than anything we could ever do alone,
A masterpiece of love, forever shone.

You are my muse, my greatest love,
The one I've been dreaming of.
You complete me in ways I never knew,
And I am grateful for the bond we share, so true.

Across the stars, our love will shine,
A beacon of light in the darkest of times.
For you are my soulmate, my heart's desire,
And in your arms, I know I'll never tire.

So here's to us, to our love so pure,
To the bond that will forever endure.
You are my everything, my reason to live,
My soulmate, my partner, my true love, I give.

You are the lighthouse in the tempest's roar,
A steadfast beacon when hope seems to pour
From empty vessels. Your light, a warm embrace,
Dispels the shadows, leaves no vacant space.

In depths of doubt, when skies are overcast,
Your love, a refuge, where solace is cast.
With you as anchor, I weather any sea,
Your strength, a current that pulls me to thee.

Your touch, a whisper, soft as summer rain,
Erases worries, stills the aching pain.
In your eyes, galaxies of comfort reside,
A universe of love, where I can abide.

Through shifting sands and life's relentless tide,
Our love, a fortress, where souls abide.
Unwavering, steadfast, a promise kept,
In your heart's embrace, my spirit is swept.