By the gate of Singapore
I look at the sky
And watch the dance of thunder
And I wonder aloud–
Have I seen heaven lose control before?
The wet paintings on the walls
Beckon to me with all their might
So I move closer, gliding on my feet
But the closer I move,
The farther their beauty
Run away from me
At a speed I never imagined.
I glide on the earth like a shadow
And trail my hands across nature–
The wet flowers are radiant
But fails to entice me.
I bend my mortal knees
To smell the wet lilies
That are planted by the wayside,
And wonder if they will sing to me
A moment passed me by
And I hear their song of bliss,
But why does my mind grasp futilely,
As if this moment has happened before?