If you love, then you can see everything…

If you love, then you can see everything.
You can see anything.
Without torturing your brain,
Without hurting your heart,
You can see everything.

Even though she is wrapped in thick fur like a polar bear,
Even though she is hiding deep in the London fog,
Even though she is embedded in a night packed with stars,
No matter what and how she does,
You can see everything of her,
‘Cause you love her.

What a relief!
You don’t have to get exhausted,
While trying to undress her piece by piece
As if you are peeling an onion.
Instead, what you need is love!
Only love….

If you love, then you can see everything.
Everything, everything, everything…
Of her!

Butter in My Mouth

Tasted it? Nah!
I never even peeped at
the watchtower so its touch
that’s felt like mother’s bosom
only can be imagined
through memories of other watchtowers.
I’ve heard that passing through a slightly bulging plain
would lead you to a small forest.
That’s just a rumor since I’ve never seen
a single tree in the forlorn forest where
traces of a few deer were rolling around and
a small pond whose depth is unfathomable
is longing for anglers.
I am wondering if any fish are living in there.
Over that there is a mysterious valley that
is emitting a scent of chrysanthemum and
can be seen only in dreams.
Where is the butter in my mouth?

Deep in Sorrow

A hungry wolf
Is being plunged deep
Into sorrow
Again today.

The wolf has to tear
Lamb’s flesh and
Drink its blood but
No lamb will be eaten
Willingly and pleasantly, so

The meal is not
For enjoying but
For just stuffing in empty stomach.
The satiety after meal
Turns into a void in no time, but

The wolf is submerged into sorrow
While seeking a flock of sheep again.

A thinking wolf
Who tells a wolf to think?
A wolf trying to be a human
Knows humans
Tear flesh and
Drink blood too?

The Joy of Cleaning

I could get joy from cleaning my house.
Is that even feasible, practical?
House cleaning is a chore, a vicious animal
In which I try to find an excuse
For skipping this or next week
No matter how freakily the excuse would creak.
Now I say ‘joy’ out of cleaning my house?

Well, am I trying to squeeze joy out of nothing
‘Cause I can’t find any joy in this world of constant bumping?

This was true, however, no matter how dingy.
I enjoyed the clean house because I didn’t clean,
But Roomba, a dumb robot but smart enough to clean,
Did. The only thing I did was to make the house filthy.

This is exactly what the sacraments of Reconciliation is all about.
I sin, but Confession cleanses me without any of my efforts.
The only thing I do is to make myself a dirty and unclean snout.
I see clean me and is joyous.
I got joy because I don’t do anything to avoid my spiritual drought.
The not-so-dumb priest does just like Rooma does for my house!

This shouldn’t be a joy of cleaning
But a joy of doing nothing?
Then why can’t I enjoy Confession and rarely do?
This is one of many mysteries of faith with hue.

Now, dumb Roomba is gone.
Holy Confession is gone.
I clean my house myself
‘Cause she says smiling, “I like the clean house”.
Then I clean my sins myself?
‘Cause she says giggling, “I love the clean man.”?

A Bad Man

i like a brazen woman.
i like a brazen bad woman even more
i like a brazen bad devout woman more and more
i like a brazen bad devout religious woman the most

who stops at nothing to enjoy life and
beautiful men

just like the woman who committed adultery and
was dragged over to Jesus by
jealous men

she is truly attractive, enchanting, sexy…
you name it

I am a bad man
pondering the meaning of ‘woman’

A Beautiful Ending

At the final stage of a self-proclaimed prophet,
He dreams a beautiful ending.
The empty room gives him a sweet smile.
This farewell moment would be as great as it gets.
Nobody for him to say good-bye,
Nobody to say to him good-bye,
This is the true END!
He can just disappear into thin air
Without flowery-adorned words,
After gazing at the void for 10 minutes..no 15…

Ah! Dang!
His beautiful daydream is shattered into millions of atoms,
When the room is packed with passionate-looking people.
Jesus Christ!
This is not the ending he expected, but
When people gives him a lump of gold for farewell gift,
The ending is even more beautiful?
Now he, a little bit confused, is gazing at the gold,
Pondering the meaning of a prophet,
No matter self-proclaimed or God-anointed.