i am like a seed

people plant me into their little pots
constructed little plots
under control under their hands

they will always try to make me bloom
into a flower, into a little plant
under control under their hands

they would think that I am just a little bonsai
put a wire there, and i'll bloom
exactly the way they want me to

but I am tired of that
under control under their hands

i don't want to be tended, waiting
for me to bloom into what they expect me to
I am my own, and I don't need them to that, anymore

my body will grow, and they will see
i am not their plant,
i am not theirs

i don't want to be tended
if only the hands were tender
even with love

but then, they drench me
with words
that i love, and fall for

i am tired, but still
am just a seed

i am no tree, i am powerless

so place me into your ***
control me under a plot

and i'd will always
always go towards the sun

my sun

There's something comforting about crying yourself to sleep with a storm raging outside your window.

The rain, your tears.
The howling wind, your sobs.
The thunder, your pounding heart.

Almost as if you're crying, so the world is crying with you.

Lighting one candle
with another candle--
    spring evening.

Not for all eternity
Will sadness streak my cheek
Or curve me with a sightless weight
That bows my kneecaps weak.

Nor evermore shall I mourn
A departure so abrupt,
A constant fixture in my world
From it, so sudden plucked.

Even all time, so short and long
I dare not wish nor pine
Each blessed day that passes by
Each night would ease my mind.

But for  lasting moment
Each smile, each laugh, each breath
The memories shall hold me now
No longer left bereft.

At the crossroads this year, after
begging all day
I lingered at the village temple.
Children gather round me and
whisper,
'The crazy monk has come back
to play.'