Where am I?

When am I?

I’m no spirit of time or place

Belonging nowhere or when

Cannot a soul be timeless?

A lord of my own hour

Own coordinates of fate

Time and space is relative

Then why must we synchronize?

We can be different

But still remain friends

Is not love timeless?

Now, what am I?

Cheung-Ling Wong

I am here!

All washed-up

On cyber shores

A curio thing

A strange object

Objectify me!

If you so dare

Or, dust me off

Take me home

And into your hearts

Am I another thing?

Or the same pulse

Of rhythm and blood.

Cheung-Ling Wong

There’s no need to take

There’s no need to steal

Or ingratiate

Just surrender – feel

Subsumed in senses

Of destiny’s cause

Your soul – possesses

So all become yours.

Cheung-Ling Wong

The basilica of the night

My vaulted dome gilded with stars

Around Polaris I beg spin

My celestial ecstasy

With silent praise and silent hymn

My hidden pulse of heart in prayer.

Cheung-Ling Wong

Depths of darkness echoed

Oceans of atrabile quaked

The dark is never still

I surf its hidden frequencies

Sang its song of shadows

The black ink that stains

White pages of wisdom.

Cheung-Ling Wong

Materna et paterna

Eternal as patina

’Hind this ancient heritage

Gleaming through this parentage

Poised and polished I was born

Never far from whence was shorn

Yet time is always yearning

Journeys are a returning

Towards and back, history

Congenital mystery

Dark matter inheritance

And all within an instant

Back enfolds the patina!

Cheung-Ling Wong

Now is the past

For all things pass,

Memories shape

The present tense,

Tight wound clock springs

Tells us the Tao,

The past is never dead

Till now!

But a mere moment, ever fast,

Welcome there!

To our living past,

Lasting presence

Impressions quake,

Be dead or alive,

Both of fate,

Hand in hand,

More than we can make,

The living

Leave behind their wake,

Their future stare

Through antique eyes,

Yet sentiments are living ties;

Just now,

We’ve witnessed my passing,

But I’m alive,

Well and seeking,

 In the making,

Glimpse progression,

Tao of now –

My sweet transgression.

Cheung-Ling Wong

Memoirs are

But echoes of life’s song

All be-loved

Is music to my soul;

Lines etched in sand

Patterns in water

Tint of leaves

The spectra of flowers:

Shapes of thought and

Its impression’s wake;

Our lives

But a tangle of sine waves

Orchestrated

To be conductive

Since birth and to our wake –

Symphonic

Yet in death

I wave, I wave farewell.

Cheung-Ling Wong

It flowed and coursed

As if water

Upon world

Where flotsam gather

–

Pond its mind

To rest and ponder

A pause to reflect

Life’s wonder

–

Miracles crossed

Its murky depth

Sending ripples

Across its breadth

–

With this truth

It  sparkled with light

Myriad thoughts

Did surface bright

–

Mystery recalls

Source of life

On its shores, succours

Hope and strife.

Cheung-Ling Wong

Majestic is silence

Freedom from violence

Untainted by our noise

Enigmatic is poise

–

Mystery always return

A cooling balm we earn

From knowledge — searing learn

We hope a better turn

–

At peace from burdens’ know

With silence all hopes grow

Into presence, our light

But only a small bite

–

Fleeing clamour in fright

Over contending might

Our pride it disallows

Our many broken vows

–

Daubed frustrations we paint

Onto blank canvas faint

A quantum of light laid

Or a wave of sound made

–

Our pixilated life

A complicated strife

Forever flight or flight

Disconnected insight

–

Only in our darkness

Is the big picture sent

Only in our silence

Is Wisdom’s voice be-meant.

Cheung-Ling Wong