Faraway Temple

Tea. 6.16 am. Retro-pop
plays on your radio, the cat
yawning and upturned, curling
into a

corner where your quilt acts
as a heater, the spoon tinkers
the air
like a bell, you

remember the temple, don’t you?
Scent of drizzle and white flowers
seducing
the child you, becoming
medicine for sad mornings, slowly
fading away
into one page
of a new book, unwritten

but revisited. Tea, 6.19 am, brewed.
This honey though, weak and plastic,
nothing compares to the beehive, above
the temple wall

smoke rises

Within

one submerges slowly
breath after breath
clouds move away
the mind’s sky clearing
watching greyer clouds arrive
seasons change
fantasies rain
watch it all fade

the raven sits beside
wondering what lies within

Insight

so many doors
knock them down
let the clogged memoirs out
for a serene stroll
the verandah waits for you

so many windows
with faces of bruised children
awaiting your forgiveness
light some lanterns and let them rise
create joyous images in their eyes
the sky waits for you

i wait for you at the end of this moment
i watch you disappear and reappear
i watch you age like everything else
you call me back to show me
the city of love you rebuilt
the streets pulse like veins from your heart
each house invites you for a feast
but you decline saying
you have more houses to build