The reserves in a song
are much more than you think
When they run out, temporarily forgotten
time will quietly charge them
via an unexpected visit
bringing you new surprises
Only an encounter of heart with heart
those happily crying lights slag with fission
the crystal sugar grains
would melt to your mood
feeding your expression
At this point, the release of others
quickly transforms into the release of “you”
and is enlarged with the release
A peacock spreads its feathers for you alone
although in front of other listeners
nothing has ever happened
After being infiltrated
you would find an endless reveal
The manuscripts in the drawer shine waves
The resurrected inspiration is an invisible boat
the paper sheets raise white sails, memory crosses water
You stand at side by the ship, tasting
the flavor after years of sedimentation
A group of cranes come down
and transform into paper cranes
They are folded by you into seagulls
flying in a rough sea
In a piece of string music
the heartstring is your own
but the fingers plucking the string are not yours