Poetry

Simply arranging words at will is enough
The flowers silently look up at the sun, the latter stretching out its rays, wearing a faint smile.
On the plains lies an endless expanse of green grass.
Holding a green umbrella, I walk slowly amidst this expanse of green.
With no one around to disturb me, I can freely imagine my imaginations, I can create everything I desire out of nothingness.
The sun is gradually hidden away, pale gray clouds slowly gather, and the sky looks as if it is about to weep……
Deprived of the golden light reflecting off its blades, the green grass, too, loses its vitality……

The rain patters softly, dripping drop by drop onto the umbrella, and sliding off drop by drop.
Suddenly, I see a golden light bloom from a raindrop, as if she has opened her own eyes, majesty and innocence coexisting, passion and coldness harbored together, gazing at this gloomy heaven and earth, gazing at the gloomy me.
She stops falling, and flies up toward the sky, everywhere she passes, countless water droplets seem to radiate with new life, and the golden light in her eyes is that very newborn life.
Soon, everything between heaven and earth is flooded with the golden hue emanating from the rain, how pale that color is… how tender… not scorching, but soothing this lost world……
Just as you comfort me.

I close the storybook, and you have already fallen asleep. Your even breathing is like a graceful melody, and I listen in a daze. If Chopin were here, this rhythm would be elevated into a work surpassing the Nocturnes.

2020/08/17