What medicine have you given me, Doctor,
that makes those thoughts hop about my mind
like an invisible sparrow, leaving only
a trembling branch behind?

What is this new blue breeze
rippling through me, this vibration
of airy fluidity playing with me
like a child with a kite?

Is this natural, this floating life,
this joyous rambling, countless
curiosities popping up along the path,
this soft mist inking life’s stony edges?

If Moon is the essence of mind’s
ever-changing illusion, then clinging
to world is hopeless. Yes, Doctor,
I’ll take your medicine, if it let’s me
dream forever.