.
Air –
mountain
peaks cut through
thick fog banks: black clouds shaped
like mountain peaks drift above: a glimpse
of fabled continents:
Immortals go there:
home.
.
.
.
Sea:
the other
shore: a hidden island:
the rippling wind breaks off the quiet
sand: wave after wave: they
roll away:
now.
Air –
mountain
peaks cut through
thick fog banks: black clouds shaped
like mountain peaks drift above: a glimpse
of fabled continents:
Immortals go there:
home.
.
.
.
Sea:
the other
shore: a hidden island:
the rippling wind breaks off the quiet
sand: wave after wave: they
roll away:
now.
.
Thanks for taking us to the "Tenth Continent"! I love this poem!
ReplyDeleteYou are welcome. There are ten continents in Daoist heaven. Number seven is appealing, too.
ReplyDeleteYou have indeed taken us way beyond. Like the one about the mountain mist in particular. Thanks for the comments on my blog. Did you write the poem about the trees? Silvia
ReplyDelete