7. The Morn of the Mid-Autumn Festival.

…and the night where the Moon is roundest.


Ðarkness lay spread, waiting, as I awoke at an hour unusual for me to wake up. I washed my face, settled my bed, tuned into my running attire and selected a fresh tee shirt, in black, and before I could step into my old red New Balance 373, I was already out of the door.

I needed to run. I needed to run away from the noise in my head, caused by someone a thousand miles away. So I ran, nay, I sprant. I did my best sprint through the streets all the way to the park and some more within it and before I could exhaust the potassium in my body as well as outrun my thoughts, I realized that instead of all that I could, in tranquil, wait for the sunrise.

The skyline across Victoria Harbour roofed under the cobalt blue sky, served as an appetizer as I stood drenched in sweat and agony.
But, of course I lost it, the dread in my stomach and the thoughts on my mind. Instead I began to observe this old couple who were out in the sea at this early hour. Gradually I gathered that I wasn’t anywhere, and only there with the conceiving aurora.

I suddenly remembered, there had been a broadcast announcement that a typhoon was to hit Hong Kong this day and so it made sense to why there were so few people in the park. I felt more comfortable, and I knew that all that I had to do was to simply look and take in the beauty unfurling without holding onto my breath.

The cobalt blue disappeared with the orange yolk of the sun flowing into lemon yellow, turning dawn into day, and as sunlight touched ground, the city was soon ensconced with whiteness all over.


She seems to understand some things

That which only she can conclude
I want her to conclude them all
And Begin afresh with me once more.

She is afraid to try again this love,
This pain that shattered us both
But I wish she find courage
And walk to me with a hope.

I would wait for her for years
If only she’d say ‘give me time to come’
I would ready a world for her
To welcome her when she does.

She is timeless confusion,
A clock that ticks and makes time stop
I am here waiting for the hour
The day she concludes her comprehension.

She is that flower in the valley of gardens
the fragrance of which travels to me
And I’m worried if I should pluck her,
lest she would wither with mine love unseen.

She is my every desire, burning endlessly
The flames that I feel no warmth of yet,
Her light she turns away from me
To discover her self-perpetuity.

She has dreamed already her future,
And I am nowhere to be seen.
Even when the dawn is nigh
Comes yet not a day to begin.

She carries her mind in her heart now
And friendship is the word on her mouth
My heart is still filled with hope.
Invigorated with every beat that strokes.

I’d paint her my poem and sing her my dance
If only she’d glance at me with warmth, once
Now there is only nothing and hope.
And sleepless slumbers into idle nights
And a puncture in the bottom of my heart
Where all the love songs pour right out。


She looks away, but she cannot.

She walks tall, but her spirit falls.
She denies me, but does she?
I cannot tell for I am blind.

 She talks to me in many ways,
She talks of joy that never end.
Her laughter is heard miles away.
I cannot tell for I am deaf.

 Days end and months pass, 
My watch’s tick forever lasts.
The stars silently watch with its glowing heat,
This, I can tell, for I feel her heart beat.

Even then our lives are apart
Even then we fear our past
Even now we do the same
I fear it will forever remain.

Come night, come day.
Come, as he said, what may.
But come with sincerity and faith.
Come, let’s play。


ϖhat hath ye that stole mine light?

Now it slumbers still as stone.
Long gone ye and I unthrone,
Pondering the weight of lovelorn grown.
Strange the joy that sets us weeping,
Quiet river of melancholy flows.
Divided minds blame the bodies,
crippled hearts now lead by the nose.

What hath ye that makes mine surrender?
To the petals of the blooming rose.
Thorn after thorn, in pain I groan
Climbing the stem spreading the pollen sown.
Robust weather and all things blue,
Birds chirping to the mystical hue.
Why must thou leave the forest,
Must ye need to venture the new?

Why cannot thou have thy spirit strong?
To fix the old and renew, reform.
To place thy trust in thy own hands,
So that only ye would solely understand.
To place thy faith in the old soft spot.
Courage and sail upon the angry sea, arrive
To the Mountains that have stood tall, forever
So shall our dignity if you allow it to be。

3. A double macchiato, a glass of hot water and honey on the side, please.

It is amazing how people pull themselves out of it. Some through time, some using substance, and some who endure it all within. Regardless of what the pain may be, we human beings usually always push ourselves through and having said that,  my deepest condolences to the souls that were not able to.

Have you ever found that sweet pleasure in soaking in your sorrow? The feeling of utter incompleteness, helplessness and the haunting emptiness, a peculiarity which turns honey bitter and coffee sweet.  It is in these circumstances that a person can find that lone berry, a wild red cherry, poisonous, and yet the sweetest, that you simply cannot pass the opportunity to feel your lowest, the heaviest in spite the great concave hollow. To  feel the daily breeze like a hurricane on your skin, to perhaps realize the volume of endurance.

There comes a point in every event of the like, that we find ourselves lost, withered and hopefully hopeless. This suspension in the vacuum and in the endless tick of time, we crave for the impossible, a godly intervention, and even act against our integrity and principles. We break our vow, speak out those things we repeatedly reminded ourselves never to speak of again. Weak is the will of the lovelorn heart, a crippled soul, otherwise an almost defeated man. Yet, somehow despite walking through hell’s hot distance, we find that we may be defeated but never destroyed.

And so, tasting the sweet touch of grief sublime, we must endure. We cannot give in, we mustn’t. For when the new day dawns and the sunlight feels warm, we can remember the horror that has passed. Not explicitly, but a rainbow remains forever. Water tastes a lot sweeter and the grass feels much softer, and every breath reminds you why you are still alive.


Λnd suddenly came the thought that made my mind amiss

My smooth life now that shook made sense some more
Feelings forgotten surfaced, unexplained as though
They were never buried proper, otherwise intentionally sowed.
It kept crossing my mind, did not allow me to work
Voices from the past spoke of retrospection as ghosts
or was it melancholy that I surrendered to?
Passed by a day then a week, the urgency only grew
I feared, for I felt this was not under my control.
A sweet song at play, nostalgia reminiscent came down
Tumbling, and drained my solitude presence away.

Anticipation turned into dreams and now it was for sure
Being expected presciently, yet so difficult to conceive
Questions dance and they taunted the bygone
Answers are rare and no definition be found.
I turned to one and then to another, in search for a clue
or even for just a colour, grey or blue.
Yet it only grew the apprehension stronger, longer.
Now this hapless event drew me to curiosity, to you
And I did what most would do, I tried to see
I looked and somehow it made sense to me,
The colours were faded but that wouldn’t matter no more
For what could break had already shattered.
That my divine trophy now is gone
Though my heart is crisp and burned, my muse has returned。


Θne fair winter noon

Came a night too soon
The lady unready, wore blue
Missed the faithful true.

Lashes rushed onto the wall
Clothes that hung fall’d
Dirt caught up, white no more
But it was never white before.

Dried eyes saw ghosts
Even when dawn pawned
The night took the stars with it
And with it love tore

Sad boy sat in, beat
But new day brought light
He opened his eyes, opened wide
Tiny dew drops dried

Cool wind passed by
And the grass shivered delight
Frost covered yellow beings, swing
Crushed when stepped upon

No flower bloomed there
No bird did song share
The lady ready in red, waited
but the faithful had already gaited。