We live on the ripples of a beating heart Sailing wide across a great black sea Each pulses like falling raindrops As we drift on the surface of destiny
We know the struggles and the storms to come Foundations the turmoils of passing winds Are scattering on our way towards the sun Were raised by none but the breathe of our will
We become landscapes the further we are drawn Cold mountains, dense forests, oceans and such, On our carved existence all promise to be found As we roam from mood to mood, from thought to thought
We understand at last what the touch reconciles When we start to realize what we had always known That the world was always ours, and it dawns on our mind That the rainfall had stopped while we’d landed home
Written in June 2019 - for an exhibition in Peking.