Life is layers of songs,
written deeply on,
thin skin and deeper
strands that are the keepers
of essential secrets
that I don’t know
how to read.

It is unexpected
not predirected
but moving in
its own directions
at its own pace.

It is as sweet as
sugar cane,
and as bitter as
the tea leaves,

seeing us coming in,
swimming then
drowning
as we leave.

Life is more
than my poetry
can portray,
this game I play
trying to make
gold from clay
as chaos reigns.

No matter how
I try to explain,
it is such a shame,
life is only
temporary.