Wǔxíng Category: Earth (土)
3-xx
The white disk rests heavy against the pulse,
A circle of sky-breath trapped in ancient silt.
Green veins drift like ink dropped in a clear pool,
Tracing the paths of a thousand hidden rivers.
It bears the chill of the earth’s deep marrow,
Yet warms where it touches the heat of the skin.
No crack mars the surface of this polished light,
Only the weight of a mountain made small and round.
You are the jade that does not break under the tide,
Steady when the world demands a bending we do not give.
When the words of kin strike like hammers on glass,
I am the bedrock that absorbs the trembling blow.
There is music in the way the spirit holds firm,
A resonance that only the high and the pure can keep.
The anchor is cast in the depth of our shared silence,
Echoing the song of the stone in every quiet breath,
Rising through the storm as a pillar of white and green.
The chimes hang suspended in the doorway of the heart,
Thin slivers of light waiting for the stir of the air.
When struck, they do not weep or shatter into dust,
But release a long hum that vibrates in the bone.
It is the sound of the world being put back in place,
The clarity of a bell after the thunder has passed.
The moss-in-snow pattern remains calm and unmoved,
A map of a forest that grows within the gem’s heart.
This bond is a shield that rings against the dark,
A beauty that does not fade when the sun goes down.
Though the rising water seeks to pull you from the shore,
My hand is the root that finds the stone beneath.
Let the ink-green inclusions be our secret language,
Signs of a life that was tempered in the crushing heat.
We are the polish that comes from a long endurance;
Even on these cold winter days, the song of the stone
Sustains a resonance that spans the distance between us.
刘嘉文
© 2026 Liujiawen2024. All Rights Reserved
Feb 10
Feb 10, 2026 at 12:05 PM UTC
Wǔxíng Category: Earth (土)
3-xx
The white disk rests heavy against the pulse,
A circle of sky-breath trapped in ancient silt.
Green veins drift like ink dropped in a clear pool,
Tracing the paths of a thousand hidden rivers.
It bears the chill of the earth’s deep marrow,
Yet warms where it touches the heat of the skin.
No crack mars the surface of this polished light,
Only the weight of a mountain made small and round.
You are the jade that does not break under the tide,
Steady when the world demands a bending we do not give.
When the words of kin strike like hammers on glass,
I am the bedrock that absorbs the trembling blow.
There is music in the way the spirit holds firm,
A resonance that only the high and the pure can keep.
The anchor is cast in the depth of our shared silence,
Echoing the song of the stone in every quiet breath,
Rising through the storm as a pillar of white and green.
The chimes hang suspended in the doorway of the heart,
Thin slivers of light waiting for the stir of the air.
When struck, they do not weep or shatter into dust,
But release a long hum that vibrates in the bone.
It is the sound of the world being put back in place,
The clarity of a bell after the thunder has passed.
The moss-in-snow pattern remains calm and unmoved,
A map of a forest that grows within the gem’s heart.
This bond is a shield that rings against the dark,
A beauty that does not fade when the sun goes down.
Though the rising water seeks to pull you from the shore,
My hand is the root that finds the stone beneath.
Let the ink-green inclusions be our secret language,
Signs of a life that was tempered in the crushing heat.
We are the polish that comes from a long endurance;
Even on these cold winter days, the song of the stone
Sustains a resonance that spans the distance between us.
刘嘉文
© 2026 Liujiawen2024. All Rights Reserved
Project Title: Elements of the Heart
Volume 3: Earth (Tu) - Stability and Connection
Poem 3-xx
Authored 16JAN26
