Derelict Temple
The dark colonnade is full of writing.
Walk there, and the letters seem to hover like an aroma.
The colonnade is filled with murmuring,
making passersby unstop their ears to listen
The heart is filled with scenery,
opening eyes that were closed.
When that happens, the colonnade opens with light and reveals
a different world.
I snatched one sound that was traversing the space
and tried holding it to my ear.
The sound was singing
of the god that created this universe and its beautiful harmony.
The colonnade was packed with some joy that could not be concealed.
But the moment that my hand happened to touched a crack in the wall,
the colonnade screeched and with a clang
was swiftly cloaked in darkness.
I could feel a cold, sticky liquid that had been flowing from the crack in the wall.
The colonnade was so dark that it was hard to take a single step.
When I emerged from the colonnade, I saw the wide ruins of the temple.
Flowers blooming atop piles of stones were trembling mysteriously.
-Delhi, India
printed in The Street Where the Pipa Boy Disappeared.