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