WUSHUANG TONG

Sea of the Time

Don’t trust the paradise in a mirror,

Don't stare at the vortex absorbing the past.

People pace back and forth,

Gathered on every crease of the space,

Making resounding echoes

in the drifting time.

It is an ocean, gradually settles.

Sand is light; water plants

Are not green yet;

Bones of trilobites

Are not printed on the seabed yet.

Currents

Spin the blue algae who is blind.

The moss can't climb the reef,

Waves wet clouds, where the reef is.

Beauty,

is still slow,

All life,

is still slow.