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The Singing of a Cricket
At midnight I heard a cricket singing outside the window,
pushing the wandering moonlight into
the emptiness of my room.
I like all the bright and empty things.
They are not created, but exist like the everlasting dream.
Are they real or imagined?
Can a cricket distinguish between reality and imagination?
between its singing and a sudden summer storm,
teamed with fleeting petals, leaves, and meteors.
A boy in search of crickets went missing.
Who hung the firefly lanterns and ignited the soaked stars inside?
to lighten the solitary singing of a cricket
inundated by the endless night rain,
as the boy left the vast grassland and returned.
He roamed over the swirling roads, rivers, time,
growing silver hair and rejuvenated
by the retreating and approaching morning mist and purple,
as I repeatedly fell asleep and woke up
in search of the singing of the cricket
inundated by the roaring sound of sunshine mowing the world.
2018.7
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