Sep 2019
Letters and print seemed not my language anymore.
Pen in hand I felt like a weighted foot.
My eyes tracked; I lost the scent.
But whenever I rhythm, rhythm free --
false underpinnings of me evanesce,
cease their being.
Alphabets break through school room doors.
Wall clocks split their faces.
Whenever I rhythm, rhythm gentle--
my heart its codes concoct--
make all green fresh alive
as sweet this earth
become green eternal springtime.
(my blood my body know
openings wanderings)
Whenever I rhythm, leaping leaping;
my mouth mouths, my breath breezes.
I am at one with shivers of sunlight.
I sing I sing:
kei quah rae sa
sa e cha nu
e cha nu quah rae
kei quah sa saaaaaaaa….
Pen in hand I felt like a weighted foot.
My eyes tracked; I lost the scent.
But whenever I rhythm, rhythm free --
false underpinnings of me evanesce,
cease their being.
Alphabets break through school room doors.
Wall clocks split their faces.
Whenever I rhythm, rhythm gentle--
my heart its codes concoct--
make all green fresh alive
as sweet this earth
become green eternal springtime.
(my blood my body know
openings wanderings)
Whenever I rhythm, leaping leaping;
my mouth mouths, my breath breezes.
I am at one with shivers of sunlight.
I sing I sing:
kei quah rae sa
sa e cha nu
e cha nu quah rae
kei quah sa saaaaaaaa….
With this, you can make up your own rhythmical tune aloud, hear it in your head or read it in monotone. I remember times when I lived in a print-less world -- I was natural and wild, steeped in magical nature. You too?
