I walked this path before

This path,

Long and weary,

Steep but scenery,

I walked here before

It was evening before dawn,

Getting darker, getting quieter,

Only crickets’ fiddles clearly in my ears,

I continued walking

But the deeper I trot,

The more jaded I become,

More aimless I should say,

That this path I walked before

Had this be morning,

The rundown might not be heavier,

As the breeze will lift me,

And the birds will sing me

I waved again the joggers,

And laughter the kids’ funny mischief,

Despaired why the appetence,

Perhaps this path I walked before alive.

The Works

In the stillness of the hall,

Frigidly forced on the wall,

Masterpiece they so called,

But my sights refuse to recall.

In the stillness of the images,

Recollected from memories,

Captured under the dabs and strokes,

Under the entangled shades.

In the stillness of the sculpt,

Wash-out white but not discolored,

So cold like a frozen spirit,

Fool to wish its intent.

In the stillness of stationarity,

Everything in perfect proportion and measure,

Hard to describe monotony,

When a person single in enclosure.

Cucumber Sate

Taste of roast and juicy cucumber,

A harmony of sort,

Onions with meat,

Cube-rice and meat muffled in gravy sauce.

Bitter taste of onions,

Tingeing mix with meat,

From sweetness of sauce to bitterness of onions,

A blend of misers but pleasure.

Gorge down roasted meat,

And succulent bits of cucumbers,

Pangs of heat from nearby grill,

Pale by the coolness of night’s wind.

Raw chance out of misers,

Tasting pungent onions and roast,

Sweetness and bitterness muddled,

Giving the night a goodnight toast.

The Emptiness Within You

Greatest of remedy is emptiness,

In everything I ever wished,

And nothing I never ditched.

Greatest of effort is naught of result,

Because of keeping wish afloat,

That has a circle without a knot.

Non-existence of wisdom to carry the emptiness,

When never wish, never measure,

Afloat only of mind in composure.

Greatest of happiness is everything but emptiness,

Because never hold wish, no more hopes,

Impregnable mind as indestructible as the will.

Will that has no existence at all,

From naught of hopes that is never kept,

Thence a beginning of true mindfulness.