Where is the ode’s cry,
or the eagle’s stare of wonder?
The world of things has caught me up
on a river running rapidly,
making everything around me a blur, and myself
anxious of what’s coming next.
Years ago I made friends with the shadows on my wall,
heard dreams in the rustling of the wind,
and remembered everything with a sharpness
that made my eyes water.
And now, friends are hard to come by,
dreams are forgotten,
and memories – are only a memory.
Perhaps “benefit” is a word
whose meaning we’ve considered poorly.
or the eagle’s stare of wonder?
The world of things has caught me up
on a river running rapidly,
making everything around me a blur, and myself
anxious of what’s coming next.
Years ago I made friends with the shadows on my wall,
heard dreams in the rustling of the wind,
and remembered everything with a sharpness
that made my eyes water.
And now, friends are hard to come by,
dreams are forgotten,
and memories – are only a memory.
Perhaps “benefit” is a word
whose meaning we’ve considered poorly.