Once you called me fragile. A flower, bent beneath the summer wind. Once I thought I was. Held to expectations now, and pinned Dead as butterflies and without flight. Alabaster, innocent, and pure. Thoughtless to the fates, Heedless to the breezes and unsure. But what have I become? Have I
From hot and riled to reconciled Go hearts that blame. Burst into flame At merest touch. She who loves much Cannot contain the sort of pain That comes from you. And yes, it's true: You are correct. But why reflect Triumphant look when all it took Was humble
No, there are no words to stop me now. You've hit a nerve and this will never cease. The waves will flow as long as I allow, Drawing closed the last remnants of peace. Collect the falling embers in a cup: Alms for poor and destitute, while kings
What makes music more than we do? Music fills the night like magic. No such night exists like this--nor ever will again. It comes; But much like music, night will fade. And morning ends the song with light. postscript A pyongsijo for the 26th day of NaPo. Because it was
Heroes raise a shout, a sword, a shield, Through fog of war and clash of steel and wood-- Furious as flame and without pause, High behind the remparts; in the field. Rage, oh brave Achilles, for the good-- Fight, Odysseus for such a cause As gods and kings deem fit.