One monsoon-laden, yore-entangled dawn in February,
On a modest origamic paper raft I set sail,
Winding through the mazes of the concrete estuary,
Which Mother will remember last
Because the metropolis tides could never anticipate
A sailor in its dry bed at memory's mercy
It lunged at me, with summer-turgid winter hate,
Which only my streetlamp eyes could love.
Mountains of flowers had each branch had unrequited,
In tsunamis rose and fell;
The hazel vines the Corinthian coloumns never sighted -
On paper, the piece of war,
I wrote, and I steered, towards more ruination -
Branch roof sea pavement rock -
Until the ashes phoenixed creation
Of the brick and leaf treaty.
I returned, with the carcass of an era.
Colours in the palette of hope.
The sweet familiarity of incognita terra;
Into the birth of spring.
On a modest origamic paper raft I set sail,
Winding through the mazes of the concrete estuary,
Which Mother will remember last
Because the metropolis tides could never anticipate
A sailor in its dry bed at memory's mercy
It lunged at me, with summer-turgid winter hate,
Which only my streetlamp eyes could love.
Mountains of flowers had each branch had unrequited,
In tsunamis rose and fell;
The hazel vines the Corinthian coloumns never sighted -
On paper, the piece of war,
I wrote, and I steered, towards more ruination -
Branch roof sea pavement rock -
Until the ashes phoenixed creation
Of the brick and leaf treaty.
I returned, with the carcass of an era.
Colours in the palette of hope.
The sweet familiarity of incognita terra;
Into the birth of spring.