Thursday, June 16, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet,
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Always as beautiful as the first time I read it, eons ago.
Thanks to Eng Kian for the poem. I lost him to the hustle and bustle of life, and I have no idea what has happened to him. Of course Mentalf gave me a whole book of Yeats which still sits on my bookshelf, dog eared and trying its darnest not to turn yellow.
Most of my best loved poems have been introduced to me by people who appeared very briefly in my life, as if their sole purpose were to say "here, have this!"
So wherever you guys are, thank you for the Nerudas, Keats, Gibrans, Yeats and Blakes. And my heart brims with love and gratitude for your thoughtfulness and beauty of the poetry you left me.
Monday, June 13, 2011
|Great Wall. Photo has not been retouched.|
And its hard not to fall in love with the city when even the weather is generous to a fault. The air was crisp enough for everyone to beam with rosy cheeks and still the sun shone against skies so blue, it made hearts lift.
Before the trip, I expected to be awed by finally experiencing all that I had read and learnt in my Asian History classes. Just like how I was totally blown away when I walked through the exhibits at the Louvre once upon a long time ago going oh I know this and wow, I remember that.
What I did not expect was feeling an immense sense of belonging and identity. And perhaps even pride.
Walking down the same cobbled pavements as long dead emperors, looking up at monuments so breathtakingly beautiful and ancient, made by a people who lived through invasion, glory, starvation, rebellion and triumph. A kingdom my ancestors called home.
Its awesome, the realization that I am the legacy of a long line of people whose destinies at one point or another were determined by Sons of Heaven whose gates I now walk through.
Its a homecoming to my heritage.
And what a magnificent heritage it is.
|Temple of Heaven|