Is that a leaf, floating and leaving the tree?

Or a sign of the wind, swaying and rustling it?

Perhaps a mirror, catching the rays of light that once gave it life

Maybe just a reflection, impermanent as it lands on the water.

I saw color among a sea of grey people,
And of grey buildings and sky.
A girl leaping time and time again,
For flowers, dots of pink and white among a sea of green.
Higher and higher she leaped.
Till her mother put one in her hair of gold.
Laughter , so colorful, out of the grey.

Here.

Where all is gone.

The man left with only the beat of his heart and thoughts,


Amid structures of sand and stone.

Time and space still reign over the hearts and minds of men.


Where has the man holding the flowers gone to?


Was he late?

Was she at the right place?


The man muses in private,


For all the achievements of man

For all his desires

He is yet unable to summon the object of his desires.


Only the lords may choose one moment in infinity,

To grant him and her a moment where their hearts beat as one, in time and space.

Hands swayed by the movement of water,
Thoughts swayed by the movement of trees.
Looking up at the trees, moved by wind,
Thoughts mirrored by the water, rippled by wind.

Thoughts branch out into the future imagining possibilities.
Hands dangle and dip around in the water, piecing and pulling visions.

A leaf drops onto my head and into the water.
Why, thank you!
Mister Tree brings me back into the now.

Deep in the dark of the night,

from the storm in my heart, words that were my thoughts.

Words that I wrote.


some were blue with sadness, some were yellow in joy

others were red through passion.

All but many colors of one feeling.


Shiny ink flowed into the last word,

lit by my feeble light.

clouds rushed by in the dark sky,

lit by gentle starlight.


I went to the place my heart sought,

finding the lovely image my words sought to paint.

Placing at her feet, and at her mercy,

all that I had written.


A silence came upon us.
I thought: What use could she possibly find for these?
I did not buy them from anyone, nor did I fight anyone for these.
How could they possibly fit her?

As I walked home,
holding my precious words, I scattered them into the wind and sun.

Far away, a little girl picked them up
and read.
Hugging them, she wrote books that were read tirelessly.
Read by all, except one and another.

For my words after, free and light.


I know not where she has gone,

the angel that used to comfort me.


By the mere mention of her name,

demons were silenced.


Demons who laugh at my frustration in the night,

no longer bound by the power of my angel.


Struggling through the endless tick-tocks and

Writing through words 'til morning croaks.


For the pleasures before, penance or price?

I was searching for a way out of the forest, through the leaves and flowers. Losing myself had no meaning, no time and no direction. And then I stood still and listened. I was still lost, yet the forest knew where I am.