Sometimes, my life is a white or pink lily in
a mud chimney on a blue lake. The mud feeds
the lily against the cruelest caprices. The water
reflects the lily’s growth. I happily grow
in reflection. Then, suddenly, I find the lilies
around me passing away, not unlike the tragedy
of a little boy losing his teeth, one by one.
The water reflects the lily’s pain. I happily
suffer in reflection. The mud then releases the lily,like an old man tired of a heavy bag. The water
washes everything away and the lily is forsaken
in a lake of fire where the grass carp never dies.
