because the river flows backward

it is not something i would know

i have gone with it
(just like everyone else)

it was only because of the cooing
from the deep sea
the thrust of humility
and orchestration of chaos
that sent me under
to believe
that i’ve been strung
with the wrong notes
like a violin
that thought
it was a sitar.

at least i hoped
(like everybody else)

that i knew of my sound
of my voice
and my mind
which consumed all life
like a conch perfecting its
hollowness
to become an instrument
of effulgence in breadth
and depth.

and even if the stars
pressed on the imaginary night
inside my dark belly were unmatched
with the true saints dangling above

i loved my stars
fixed with little material
of thread and origami of mind

i have dreamt beneath them
in a deep song solely my own
for blindness evaded me
and i preferred my night
before that of astronomers.

the harmony i’ve been told
of the world were not my own
so i made up things
and invented a lewd self image
of a god that nobody knew.

here i am with a portrait of my being
disassembled and taken to the shop
for the true artisans

to assemble me
the way i was meant to be

so that i may sing the sound of discord
only beautiful to the ears

of the understanding.

20110711/ Mon/  Ho Chi Minh City, VN

by Ji Rising/ Blogasana.com