The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
Hello everyone who follows David King (My Father). On behalf of the family this post is to let you know that Dad sadly passed away, peacefu...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
Down in the left hand corner of the world, beyond the rows of buttersplatch and gongoliferous trees, beyond the stirring spoonpools whe...
than I was when I was far more visible than I am now. Furthermore, numerous kind -- and tactful -- fellow bloggers have given me opportunit...
Thursday, 21 April 2011
Signs of the Arcane
Eat up your eggs and toast, my dear,
to celebrate the dead.
It's hardly proper fare, my dear,
but if you'll wipe your platter bare
the essence of our lore is there.
Remember we are Hung, my dear,
not those Manchu who rule,
who've banned us from our rightful ways,
who take no thought for China, dear,
nor Buddha or his school.
You need to wipe the platter bare
to see the broad design.
Our culture's there in every line
and every detail is a sign
of secrets that we share.
A bit late in the day, but only just got round to The Magpie Tales Monday prompt.