she walks with her barefoot, across the streets and bridges
under the sky, she finds an abandoned garden
sit there, she remembers some pieces of bittersweet memories
whispers to herself, “not bad, isn’t it?”
for all the experiences,
chances she’d taken, failed or succeeded
chances she’d not taken, regretted or grateful
let them go, one by one
how spacious she must build a house for herself
to save all her belongings
how far she must go
to see the world
how deep she must dig
to bury all her sorrows
how long she must wait the rain to stop
inside her heart, it is raining as well.
it’s a white light and he crawled from darkness because of seeing it
his hand was pulled by an old man without identity,
he sailed across the ocean to seek what life could challenge him,
somewhere along the way, i was caught up in the blindness of the white light
under the stairway to heaven, i refuse to crawled up,
believe there is another heaven suits me more
a long waiting, the painful efforts, an empty meaning of everything
thought he could pass by and i can board his ship,
but it seems he is turning into the white light himself.
so i lost my intention to follow this white light.
if only one day, he becomes the old man without identity.