Taste the Moon

Memories are like the pages of a good old book. 

Flip them and a character or scene emerges out of the blue. And you try to locate its place and time automatically, mesmerized by the chance discovery.  

Here is something similar I discovered recently.

I am still trying to figure out who has written it and when.

The graphics is of course mine, a part of series called ‘Meditation’ that I made around the same time when - many years ago - I first found this:

“The world is troubled
With a lack of looking 

I sing my songs

The world sleeps 

I see the sky reflected in my teacup

I move the cup

And I tilt the sky 

The flying crane is shadowed

On the mud wall

My shadow touches his

And I ride the bird 

The stars are mirrored in a pool 

Of rain

With my hands I scoop up the water

I have a handful of stars 

I group the branch of a tree

The wind blows

And the tree shakes my hands 

The moon shimmers on my glass of cognac

I drink

And taste the moon 

I climb on a fig tree

And look down

The earth has fallen 

All the world

All the world pours in at my barred window

I lower the my lids

And dam the flood”