The gatekeeper slumbers.
With the storm you toss,
embracing the aging
rose of time.
Darting birds define the sky.
You look at the setting ball of fire
that disappears with the fading
rose of time.
You cross a bridge amid flutes’ sobbing.
the reflection of a blade, quivering,
conspires against the crying
rose of time.
As the horizon rises out of a morning song,
you are awoken by an oriental gong
that echoes through the blooming
rose of time.
The eternal moment mirrors capture
leads to the gate of rapture,
an ocean with the everlasting
rose of time.
