Moment

By Peter Jingcheng Xu

Time wasted

is not the time

we enter.

The moment

we are together

seems to be stilled

and eternalized

in our conversations

and tune of mind.

The moment is not

the time passing

when we are together.

Yesterday

is not what was passed

but the moment

that our memories

linger on.

You walk in beauty

to the moment

with your green eyes

searching

for the blue and white sunlight,

and your mind

painting down

the golden fish

like clouds

as if they would disappear

in a blink of your eyes.

Not by the cider bubbles

but by the butterfly

in your hair

I’m drunk.

You’re like a bird flying

Higher and higher approaching

the bright and full moon.

You sitting in a book nest,

say that you are fond

of grey and pale,

searching for verdicts

to prove the innocence

of the tusk importer

who can’t read

the Punjabi label.

To a grey bird

you compare yourself,

imagining it with no feet

with wings fluttering

for ever and ever,

searching for food

which is your primary goal.

You tell you don’t like

earthy colours.

Distant nature helps you not

make ties and connections

so that it’s easier for you

to leave

and to fly up,

higher and higher,

vanishing

like Haruhi Suzumiya,

leaving no trace.

But food finds you

as the mere link

between you and the earth.

The fog

thicker and thicker,

creeping up from the sea,

to pines and peonies,

to the street neon lamps,

capping the whole island,

and blurring the roads

to home.

Suddenly, thunder rumbles

lightning flashes

and rain comes,

clearing the fog away.

Walking back home

at this time

of the day makes me

feel inner peace

and fruitful.

Writtenin PhD study room, Bangor University

Writtenfrom 20-10-2015

to 5-11-2015

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