Not My Road

I’ve never been this sure before;
this is not my road.

I’ve walked on this road for more than a decade;
this is not my road.

I’ve been running on this road with my chin up high;
this is not my road.

I’ve been crawling on this road screwing up smiles out of nothing;
This is not my road.

Looking back at the road I’ve been on,
I see many pieces of memory twinkling like the ice that cover the twigs and
I smell the fragrance of wild flowers filling up the whole road;
this is not my road.

I throw more-than-a-decade road in a trash can
and pick up another road;
is this my road?

The final road I will dump;
would that my road?

If I throw away all the road I was on,
they all would not be my roads.


I have no desire to become a God. I would be content with being an idol. Nah! I have to be an idol. Flowers could worship the invisible God? Nah! Hiding behind a God-like mask, when I crisscross the follower garden, flowers would worship me as if they meet God, would be frightened as if they are under judgment in front of God and would offer everything as if they give offerings to God.  My mask becomes God and God is hiding behind the mask. I wish my mask would resemble God even a bit, but I don’t know what kind of being God is and what God would look like. Even though my mask is said to be an idol, but the only visible thing is an idol, so I have to look like God to flowers. In this way, the true idolatry would be born. When I saunter around the garden with a triumphant air, I’ve found a flower wearing a similar mask as mine.  What’s happening here? How come a flower puts on an idol mask?! The flower with mask won’t worship me when I pass by. What is going on? Our eyes behind masks have a fight, but how could I win over a flower? Make the flower Goddess, then I can keep my position as an idol.  Come, come, butterflies that would worship Goddess! I will gather beautiful flowers that worship idol and when the time comes, I would unmask and say I am not God. Then the flowers would say how fortunate you are not God please keep being an idol for us.  Your mask would be magnificent if it is plated with gold. Well since the mask looks like the real God, who knows you might become God in the end?! Why am I writing this kind of gorgeous crap? A grumble of a self-proclaimed idol who can’t be worshipped by the flower(s) behind the Goddess-like mask.

Like a Small Bird

I am listening to the sound of a bird;
Is it weeping, laughing, or singing?

How would I know? If it is pretty, I
would listen intently even though I

couldn’t decipher no matter I listen
again and again. It could utter a sound

that I can make out a bit, but just like
Jesus who persists in sowing truth into

dumb disciples, it keeps flying the same
un-fathomable sound. Cry, cry, bird…

He could stop listening but is sticking
around in front of the small bird; a

tenacious human being. Does he want
to spew incomprehensible sounds just

like that bird or he has a desire to become
like Jesus? If I put that bird in the cage,

would the bird speak human language like
parrot? Ah! If I say something, that bird

wouldn’t understand anything from my
mouth. We would fall in love just like this!