In Jesus’ flashy family tree
in where sinful flowers blossom,
I feel the real original sinful one missing
But the hidden flower turns out to be Ruth
who has been fuming sweet fragrance since Genesis.
What sneaked into Boaz’ bedroom
was a scent of cheap perfume.
Her deep-rooted brand-name scent
is from Sodom crushed by raging fire.
She is a descendant of Edom
that was built on grave sin –
rooted deep in incest.
The grace that showers the world full of sin.
What blessing could be bigger since the path
through which God can come down to this world
has been found in sinful flower garden!
I should’ve passed by
just waving my hands.
A wobbling flower snooping around her.
Butterfly’s reluctant nodding.
Where is yesterday’s bright smile?
I forgot that I would be a flower?
I didn’t know I just have to blow scent?
That is why I am still going.
Not sure I am really taking roots.
It wouldn’t easy for a butterfly to become a flower.
Why is it trying to be a flower?
I was just staying in this spot.
It was the butterfly that flew to me.
Making her a butterfly like this,
and becoming a pretty-blossomed flower,
and finishing this childish serial poetry,
And spreading the wings hidden,
let’s go to the rose garden.
Well, no! Wait a little bit more.
Who know I might really become a flower?!
With frolicking colorful fantasies in my mind,
as I am trying to get closer to her;
Stay put right there!
A flower emits fragrance in one spot.
It will die if a flower leaves its place.
Did she see my ugly picture?
Your look –
just stay there as they are.
Do not make a sloppy copy of
Only your songs,
Just drawing any pictures in your head
will be a sin.
When the time comes,
if my ear touches your lips,
Give me a furtive confession.
I will give you a covert forgiveness.
What punishment would you want?
We are too much ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?
We are only just in Chapter 2.
With my eyes wide open
during the Sunday Mass,
I dreamt a dream;
I raised a veil of the flower,
which unveiled another veil
that veiled another flower;
When I saw this beautiful blossom,
my dream started this way.
I wish she were a real butterfly,
not just in name only.
With my wings folded,
I’ve become a flower
and I flow my scent out bit by bit,
‘till the butterfly feels happy
after being poisoned by the fragrance.
She says; I am already happy now!
Do we know what the happiness is?
A butterfly –
licking a pretty flower,
uncorrupt nature; not a sinner
A sparrow –
Ignoring a sunflower seed in the street;
committing a sin
A man –
not craving for the scent of a woman;
creats a grave sin out of nothing
A wolf –
with lamb’s blood dripping from mouth;
not condemned as a sinner
As the doe pants for streams of water,
So the buck longs for the doe.
As David’s soul pants for God,
My soul longs for you.
Like a doe that wanders around for water,
I, like a buck, would fill my hollow heart with yearning,
sniffing the scent of you small footprints.
You are my beloved doe.
As David’s heart is ripped to pieces,
and his soul is broken into fragments
by longing for God,
even though My heart is exploded,
My life is shattered into dust and
is blown up in the air,
as if the buck jumps with joy
at the trace of the doe,
as if David is rejoiced at the voice of God,
longing is my energy.
The doe that is drinking water in the stream,
How fortunate I am
Since I can only see its shadow!
The buck that is watching doe’s shadow behind a tree,
being afraid that its longing might get away…
This flower is pretty and fragrant.
This flower is fake.
Dang! The scent is fake too?
Well, the scent must a fake you’ve made up.
Why is the fake flower in the water?
The water is fake too.
What?! Then what is real?
Maybe the vase should be real.
The real vase with a fake flower and fake water in it is real?
This fake follower brightens the whole house.
It has real good scent too…
This fake flower enjoys its eternal life.
Ah! It is more real than
A real follower that would be withered and thrown into trash
In a few days?
I come to know the reason –
Fakes are rampant these days.
Should I become fake too?
Well, I don’t know who my real I is.
Fake I am me.
Real I am me.
I am who I am.
However, there must be true real?