on a farflung corner of the world
beyond the frosty Urals,
past the Saharan desert yonder,
and the Himalayan walls of ice,
and then a little while longer,
there you’ll find me sleeping.

or if you would ride a comet
and streak through the Atlantic,
land on the East Coast,
and head west some more
’till you arrive at the Western shore,
find a seastar and befriend it.

Then traverse seven horizons
across the infinite Pacific,
there you’ll find me resting.
here beyond the furthest dream
beyond the faintest clouds
i stand on sandy seascapes.

away from all the broken people
with their broken frowns and towns.
this is a land of smiles and sunny skies
where darkness and death cannot harm
the relentless light in
the brown of everybody’s eyes.

on a little archipelago of pearls
suspended from the stars by strings
like a toddler’s mobile as it swings,
the heartbeats of London, Paris,
New York, LA, or Rome:
pictures in a fairytale book here at home.

I am very very far away
where all my life is an echo
sounding in tropical sunsets:
rosy and pink and sinking
like a reverseblooming rose
lighting up the Manila Skyline.

“and just what right might you have–”
,jostled little Ruff into my ear,
“–to feel like stone cold clams, when–”
then comes a bird lifting over my shoulder
“–there’s a fire for you all over?”

and the moon sighed softly to the room

“not like a right, but rather–”
,i teared over his cotton face,
“–a photograph I keep seeing
on my windowsill, no matter–”
when all the doors blew open and up
“–how many moments I throw it away.”

as asters bloomed when daybreak loomed
and roses went red forever.

yourself and myself are two little playmates
under a rosetree somewhere far away
dreaming of this world and our lives
here and now
holding hands and singing.