you’re talking to a spirit,

even though you think

i am once again full of nonsense.

how can flesh be spirit?

you ask.

and i have to quite agree,

for that is how it seems isn’t it?

and yet how strong the conviction,

till the lie shows itself.

and yet how incredible the fear,

when a lack of knowledge was all that was

as the harmless snake slid past

but human ingenuity knows no limits,

conjured up the dragon comes about

even though it breathes no fire.

an ornament, hanging on a christmas tree

till the wind blows

then mythical dragons soar into the sky

way into deep heavens knows where

the heart maybe?

roar! the temple shakes,

the echoes of many spirits rise

with a new invited guest

coming with fire from hell and heaven.

i bring forth news,

it cried.

hear, hear,

pride chided to the lame dragon

still sweating profusely

when the journey through intangibles

and thin walls is no small feat!

but men congratulate on what is easily perceived,

seen and heard.

hear, hear

lamented greed who has not enough

tries to chase the tail of a dragon

for a temple too small for his liking.

hear, hear

scoffs the green dragon at pride

for disdain is clear.

your news isn’t much of a news

when this temple has already crumpled,

what you see is simply

a mirage of what used to be.

news indeed,

was not that troubling or eventful

when it had already happened.

didn’t you know?

lust talks back to the stranger,

still babbling about tomorrow,

yesterday and what nots,

and a spirit echoes back: a shadow

this flesh when the movement is already made.

it was all old news in the temple,

for this is where everything begins.

the shadows, the movements, the plays

simply mimic what has already occurred

though the forms differ,

it matters not, not in the temple where

the unchanging remains.