I C E : Ode to Self
few Hearts can fancy dress their
nakedness in icicle Presence
fewer minds will slip into cemetery’s dusk
soul appears, no hectic heady harkening
glancing what is needed or already seeded
Insight measures wisdom, not cerebral chancing
silence answers chaos, no questions
......
I AM
I am that I am
SourceLight within my Innermost Heart
unique fractal of Divinity
ever evolving spiralling ascending
deathless ageless
is my Soul
I am that I am
......
René Descartes sat alone,
not in exile,
but in pursuit.
The world waged war outside,
but he turned inward-
into the silence where thought
is louder than cannon fire.
He doubted the ground beneath him,
......
An egg,
closed like a secret,
opens
not to nourish
but to astonish.
Gold curls
like smoke around enamel,
a bird waits
beneath a hinge.
......
<The Biography of Jeon Hye-rin>
In the days of my youth, I often encountered
Her name in many books,
Life was bustling, yet she’s on the boundary
Like to be the waterside of the brooks.
In the realms of art and scholarship in both side,
She erected landmark achievements,
Amidst abundance, the only flaw
Was a poverty in love, no relievement.
(Dec. 6th, 2023, Kinsley Lee)
......
Four shadows on a Liverpool street,
not yet legends,
just boys with callused fingers
and hearts tuned to something
the world hadn't heard yet.
A chord struck,
and the silence of the age shattered.
Not with noise,
but with a new kind of light.
......
A small room in Saumur
where fabric was scarce
but imagination never was.
She cut away the excess
untied the corset's grip
and gave women space to breathe.
Black became elegance
simplicity, a revolution.
......
René Descartes sat alone,
not in exile,
but in pursuit.
The world waged war outside,
but he turned inward-
into the silence where thought
is louder than cannon fire.
He doubted the ground beneath him,
......
A quiet man walks the same path each day,
his steps as measured
as his mind.
In a small Prussian town,
he maps the limits
of what we can know.
Not with telescopes,
but with thought.
......
In the narrow alleys of Calcutta,
where sorrow clung to walls like dust,
she walked without fear-
not above suffering,
but within it.
Her hands,
small and weathered,
carried the weight
of other people's pain
......