Pass the key, to the serenity. Helped by the dawn, seal my day. Gentle breeze grinds faded verses into pulp. Aroma hides in loam, hasty -- speedy -- “Seafood market”, lying on the wood desk. Flowing water echoes softly beneath the moonlight. Who, hangs on the edge of a dream, silently? As if never here -- or somehow just seen. Some time has slipped through my palm. My heart absorbs some dark lines. Time picked away old troubles. And tought me how to turn aground, gentle and subtle. Farewell, my troublesome “seafood market”. Farewell, the dreamlike sound of flowing water, clear as a chime.

Last night, sipping nectar from the crowded stars, This morning, laughter beneath lowered eyelids. Seawater washes the dyes from a brimming heart, Some crystal pendants, fall from the arms. Seawater—a pallid woven scarf, Tired of expression, of pouring itself out. Time turns corners, upon the skin, Slowly ending in breath and heartbeat. If destiny beyond could never be chosen, If existence itself proved futile, A hardened shell can enclose the connotation, Yet drown the unknowing eyes. Perhaps exhaustion is a kind of rebirth, And ripeness is an honest, quiet disguise. Perhaps life never held right or wrong— To live is simply to willfully forget pain.

The highway swirling along the lakebed, Always yearning for a sheltering house. Waving up and down, pacing back and forth, Struggling to expel, secreting fear. The journey is but a page of early sorrow. A silhouette need not be forever recalled. Every phrase of melody is this life’s blessing. Listening to every passionate wave. Silver whiteness drenches the entire evening. It is time to release your entanglement. To pause the anxiety of stretching and pulling, And in the next year, peach blossoms, every tree.