Sonnet 133
Laijon Liu 20160627
A thousand cuts carved my ivory heart
Time chisels me this shape of agony
An art of dying, wounds slowly bleed
I again quietly lie on that marble altar
Slicing scars constructed a web of veins
Distorted patterns unwoven by the weaving hands
Ocean surrounds, separates you and me
Past dreams, sunset over the temple ruins
Thoughts is a paper boat or a paper plane, drift
Through the shimmering stars, the twirling rain
This, is made for folding and cutting
This, is designed to sail and fly
Ah, face the wind, ride the waves
Or bathe, sing my swansong
