8 September 2012
There is a place
Far away from here,
Way beyond that horizon,
Up and over those shadowed hills,
Where the frangrant scent
Of mangoes fills the air.
Ripe. Powerful. Striking your senses
As you walk through the dirt,
barefoot and free,
Strange insects buzzing wildly,
The sand tingling between your toes
And the breeze carrying
The whisper of the ocean
A deep ultramarine against
strange sienna rocks.
There are no clouds in this sky,
Nothing disrupts the perfect blue.
In the night, you see not stars
But entire galaxies far beyond.
A million lanterns floating in space.
A million fireflies perched on a leaf.
The chirp of cicadas ring in the air.
Wild owls hoot. Anonymous.
In dwellings too sacred to touch
And trees too tall to break.
The old bamboos reach upwards,
Endlessly seeking the rays of sun,
Sighing in midnight slumber.
And the bats screech from branches,
Or dance blindly in the darkness,
Seeking something, nothing.
Plump frogs they croak and ribbit
Hopping shyly along the edge,
Of ponds filled with fishes
And reeds, and lilies and life!
And in circles they swim and swim
Just beneath the water's surface,
Moonlight steals their sleep tonight.
And tall grasses all around
Are humming their evensong,
A soft hiss of seeds being carried
On the wings of humid air,
To fall only in the morning
-When the cockerel sings at last -
On soil much further north,
Much nearer to the ocean,
To start a new life there.
Beyond • Opuss № I