...tonight, in quiet city, soaked with a little rain,
like the nightingale blood on your card,
i feel a little thrust of fine needle
a little deeper in my heart.
thank the lord that it's strong and well
thanks to everyone, especially you,
you have loved me with no conditions,
you have let me be who i am and who i need to be,
and you still do love me, miraculously
and i am here,
i see the blood of my heart
and i see your blood.
nightingale, soothing a tired, red-eyed monkey,
taking my small tail over worn eyes of the day,
bringing in hypnos while keeping his dark mother nyx at bay,
carefully removing just a little more of my thorns,
which you took and took in with you,
with the bits that you like of me,
with other bits that you may still have to find from me,
and dropped the crimson dot on tabula rasa
with multitude of your feelings-
of sorry, comfort, love, humanism and unspeakable tenderness.
the tenderness of a minnow swimming with another minnow,
two small fragile silvery glint in water, in big vast blue water,
barely visible but still together,
keeping this minnow with busted and bruised cavity,
holding me together,
stitching me with the invisible threads of 1s and 0s,
caressing the wound of this small minnow,
teary and tired,
carrying my weight as yours.
through the cold water
thank you minnow.
if i could be,
i would love to be the line of the clarinet,
to travel with you, a beautiful line of oboe,
soaring just a step ahead, guiding, leading, swirling
as mozart have drawn, like the japanese water painting,
each start and fading of the brush strokes
without sweats or tears
but of the flow of life, of universe, larger than you or i
intertwining in the large sky,
like the planes do near the open area of chinley,
the tails of invisible planes,
soaring, great machines now silent and graceful,
as we have seen,
in beautiful spring evening,
early summer dusk,
darkest winter night.
i think of you,
like a silver bullet travelling in the vast space,
carrying my heart with yours.