Lit Beneath

It’s coming home there

Like a garden

Perched atop a fiery mountain

That’s lit beneath the snow.

It’s laying deep there

Like a serpent

Dwelling round a silvery tree

That’s lit beneath the moon.


As a bird I wait in groves

To cool beside the rivering edge

And swallow dreams with songs of joys

My feet play from the windness ledge.


Everywhere eyes follow me

They hide amongst the cherry trees

They pretend to look away

But subtle laughter comes my way.


Tender is the breeze that sticks to my tongue

Sleepy are the days where my feathers are hung

“Master! Master! What should I do?”

And the serpent replied “Be the Master, too.”


The Serpents Head
coming home3
The Rivering Edge
The Silvery Tree
Lit Beneath the Moon

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s