Category: Poetry
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For Trees
What’s left is long buried:
Roots in the dark,
stories dissolving—
pressure in every vesicle,
between the soil
and all the sky reachable.They were the stage,
the actor,
the playwright.A barren terrace
slowly grows its cover;
shuffling sunshine
weaves the shape.What’s left is long buried:
lumber from the hill—
to build,
for fuel,
material ideal.I pray
to the storm,
to the fire.I pray
to the axe,
to the hand,
to the eyes.Be kind
to the souls of a giant,
to the bones of time.
Berkeley,
March 2018 -
S0
Not yet time for farewell,
our tale I cannot foretell.
Wreathed,
my resolution,dreaming of words I’d spelt.
Why can’t I speak?
why do the words flee my mouth?
“Please come,
be by my side⋯”
Silently,
I screamed, wary;
Unexpected,
When I see you do,
I breathe, fearless.
Edit: In January 2018, I briefly visited UCLA Physics’s Galactic Center Group in person, and their work served as part of the inspiration of this piece. I used to play with Kepler 2-body systems for fun, and figured that they are fairly meaningful representations of relationships (they are not as complicated).
Otherwise, let’s go for the old hashtag.
# Stay in Friendzone #
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The Voyagers
Yourong Frank Wang 