Hey, why can you hear and not see?
When the sun stopped by a locked window

If there was a choice in the way we could chant
To the way we strut on our feet.

If there were choices how we touch,
To beyond our dreams.

If there was a choice in the ways we meet,
And how we leave behind the people we greet.

She sees there is a choice in their actions,
intentionally, the way they react to 
over reactions.

There is a choice in the way we treat,
Important not to repeat in the 
Explosions which create disease and confusion

If there was a choice in how we raise our 
Voice,
To apologies and resent for the 
White noise that were not meant.

If there was a choice to be free,
To move away from ever going 
Tragedies.

We knew the choices where we can leave,
To create a life to breathe,
Out of moon, No shadows but shine.

As you knew her choice
Unreasonable demand, will
Not to be dictated forever by 
Demoralizing,
our secret happy path

Would you agree with witty words from a dictionary?
And do those confusions all depend on mind play?
Who could help us more correctly:
Definition or detonation?
Lust or Love?

Who will promise to find the differences?
When we dig ourselves into dictionaries
or thesauruses 
Defining our commonality,

Refining our uniqueness, However
the death is the dictionary of unknown words,
Cant’t anyone edit and omit it, to none,
It’s soliloquy.

A short but intense melody
Catching up with the seen and unseen.

Boundary of day and night,
Where earth's surging spin
Inexorably melts 
Cascading aches and melancholy spills 


Thirsty planets open,
For the ****** of rockets and unfurling of roots.
Nature holds her breath
and decides to wait.
The bursting promise within
the boundary of mountains and water
Life hesitates 

Where serenity of silence rules over this deserted border.
Seen or unseen,the border of unconsciousness.

Are those green hopes?
Can’t we all hear their whispers love?

Calling without sounds,
Dancing without moves

Palms and fingers touch with heartily sun-sprays.

Together, we all grow,
an emerged labour fun
Where commence to our very first earthly love touch.

Can you see through, out there in the dark lunar light  
there was a petite owl, the voice of Baritone

with his solo soul and fading smiles,
He sits, sees and sings in a forest choir at night,
The bird of baritone was keen to read the note in silence

And his visible presence of an invisible absence.
Where we heard two sets of harmonic voices
in unison, the secret centre

Seasons changing whilst storms are back in the news,

He closed his left eye and looking for better reviews.
Poorly, we are all, it wouldn't be keen

He pushed his tummy and step to a sharp F key, 

Petite owl takes off from the tree with an encore applause
He closed one green eye and choired under moon light

When can we see the world?
For what it reality is? But please
Don't give in without a fight, and
Don't help those who bury the light.

I.
There was once a tiny, fading lily
Her beauty was diming, merely,
Aiya Aiya…  Lucia Lucia

Where wonders trapped her in deep sorrow
Where the root called her to continue to grow

Standing alone, an existence of solitude
While the white lily shall love in delight , 
Nor weeping alone or shining in an illuminous light . 

II.
Lily desires to live, in a place without pain
But the lily’s life is full of strife and strain

Hey, Rain, did the miracle come?
Look, oyster silver clouds replace dark blue skys

Aiya Aiya…  Lucia Lucia
As the rain started to fade into the solo song
As the Lily stood while its immunity could run
Who could take one name and lead an ever gain?

Hey, Rain, the miracle came.
Listen, silent whispers shared across the air
and the rain and peacefully landed on Lily.

III.
Out of the deep trauma that every day grew
Out of the rain, the Lily was relieved that someone else knew 

Who makes her wonder,
if the rain didn’t know of the Lily’s
wayward roots
What does the rain want to know,
although the Lily hold them as emotional loot

Aiya Aiya…  Lucia Lucia
Who is Lily as she solely sings alone in the rain?
And her heart is bleeding from the excruciating pain

A very first but
Not a very Good Easter Saturday at East China Sea

No, it's not a good Easter Saturday
Lead Grey sky
Wet, miserable
And to make matters worse

Although the realization that Christ was crucified last night
and is dead and buried and won't rise until tomorrow

Would the disciples have no idea that he will indeed rise?
But rain rises first, everywhere.