feel – Page 3 – Portrait of Em.

aeruophobia

i cannot help with the sense of fear,
what if it is the last time i see you,
who knows what would happen in the air,
or if it is the nature’s rule?

if it is the last time
i hold you and kiss you and declare my love;
if our love is a crime
and i am to be engulfed,

i wish to say
for the last time that i love
you and never want to stay away
from you, for true;

one last time to realize that life is too fragile,
too short, yet quick and fast
to be held, be grabbed for a while,
we got but a blast.

things are, for sure, unpredictable,
this is the fate
whether affordable,
too serious to love, to live and to hate.

Written on 7 August 2014,
the very first business trip.

to-our-world

Veiled is the world,
Sugar-coated, flower wrapped, covered smoothly with a thin piece of silk:
Pretty petit pity world.

Tangled Art,
Shadow beneath,
Raveled knots,
Opened locks,
Hidden gems retrieved.

Blurred amid the smoke emit,
Lights evoked, for one can never
Look at the real face of hers, like
A soon-to-be married bride,
Young girl,
Shy and sweet.

Written on 7-8 March 2014.

mémoire

clutters of thoughts,
crushed feelings,
crashed emotions,

laughter, surprise, sadness,
grief, tears, screams,
moan, mourn, regrets,
creep,

all that come in a sudden
like a flash
at a moment,

too short to be held,
too soon to be understood,
too fast to be remembered,

but this is the way of life, of nature, of world.

Written on 17 February 2014,
In memoir of Mr Mui, a former teacher of mine, who passed away earlier.

literature

les fleurs du mal,
the yellow wallpaper,
the picture of dorian gray,
the old man and the sea,
a room with a view,
a pale view of hills
nineteen-eighty-four,
never let me go,
dubliners.

be drunken in literature,
in prose, in stories,
or in novels,
or in movies,
or in poetries,
or in words,
and in dreams;

forget about the really real reality,
believe in nothing that you see,
born and deprived and hope to be free,
to read,
to think,
to pray,
to chase,
to achieve,

what cannot be done by the body, the limbs, the senses,
if possible,
by the mind,

at least.

written on 15 July 2014, be drunken.

perhaps

Then I turned,
A quiet neighbourhood,
Calm water.

Listen to the birds,
Feel the wind,
Stare at the sky —

So it is,
Life is, perhaps, the most beautiful,
yet fascinating,
when there are accidents.

So I go.

Written on 16 July 2013,
Ocean Terminal, Edinburgh, Scotland

A memorial of my summer 2013,
A beautiful summer.
“Edinburgh is a hot-bed of genius.”
Definitely I will go back again.