The Travelling Moon
And when I awoke a spring storm had hit me.
Between the eyes. Right through my corrupted breaths.
I held out my hand and a small town waved.
"The trouble is you think you have time," explained Buddah.
Laozi, bold but brittle muttered "Be humble, be true."
Confuscious, on his back, ever so slightly whispered,
"Knowledge and modesty - now go feed your soul!"
Confused and uncertain as to whom I should listen to,
I turned to the Moon.
At first I heard nothing, and that nothing remained.
The trees swayed atop Hamji Mountain.
My breath evident but fleeting after a moment or two.
And shadow. And time. And shadow. And time.
The trees whispered so I whispered back.
The ground so cold, I warmed it with my palms.
The silence so foreboding, I began to sing.
The Moon awoke and smiled at me "Find home in it all," she said.
I looked up triumphant, "I already have."