I feel.

Behind me is people’s self-centredness
They said a lot of things
Made a lot of vows
Declarations, promises and pleadings.

The façade is so opaque
The charade is such a brocade
I find on every silk
Just another rag-doll in disguise

They are good at playing music
Jazz, no, it’s just plain trumpets blowing.
But why does it pinch me, their notes?
Why do I feel these weak waves pulling
And sweeping me towards the water
For they know I know not how to swim

But they know not I can never die
For I carry across through the wind
The music of the cosmos
Far ahead, millions of kalpas in to the future
When all is gone, my wave will be caught
On someone’s radio.

I hope I can rise above the small
Cities become dots
Dots become melted rays of the sun
All evaporate
And all is emancipation

Finally I feel the revelation
The elemental reverberation
Atemporal linear patterns on the silk
Shyne on from kuan ganjo
Into time without end.