My hammock swings escaping
from a highway of life hurrying
On to your caring tree trunks hanging
With orchestras of cicadas noisily serenading

The cool breeze anaesthesizes
My thoughts that’ve climbed some distant ridges
At home in the shattered temple, unconsummated promises
At peace now in modesties that only time did bless

Within the underground cathedral lie:
          The mind’s a hermit of hidden truths he’d prophesy
          The will’s a gallant warrior refusing to die
          The heart’s a playful child chasing a butterfly

Along the banks of rivers clear I weave
broken lines from silk spun, the caterpillars believe
to wait in purgatories of gold-laden chrysalises, then leave
resurrection is heaven as wood-nymphs emerge and live

When waters flow beneath the bosoms and bowels of the earth
The wizards in rendezvous, solace in endless mirth
Shadows of misty mornings embrace your trees - all heights and girth
I shall rest, heart in mind, that death’s a reality, as natural as birth.