Landing in Taipei at Night

The waves collect the full moon’s reflection,
Banishing the darkness from the night’s sky.
I observe the ocean’s undulation
From where only birds were allowed to fly.
A man-mad glow comes from the horizon,
Guiding the way to my destination.
The on-coming land swallows the ocean,
Destroying nature’s own exhibition.
The bustle of the city lives on there,
A busy place I am destined to join,
But for now I will focus on the here
Instead of the collecting of more coin.
The moment was tailored made just for me,
The shining moon hanging over the sea.

My Memento

Our voyage is quite the amazing flight,
Taking us over vast mountains and seas,
So you want to make sure you travel light
In order to avoid the weary fees.
It is not always about the comfort
As you make your way in these foreign lands.
It should be more of what you can report
Instead of what you brought back with your hands.
It’s another piece for your collection
That weighs on your soul as you move forward.
The clutter will become a distraction,
Keeping you from how far you could have soared.
It is things that keep you tied to the ground;
Freedom comes from not having it around.

The Edge of a Storm

I like to stand on the edge of the storm,
Flirting with the danger it can portend.
One side, my chances look to be forlorn,
While the other presents a friendly end.
The way that things will go is determined
By the length it takes me to make a stride.
The choice of the way my future will bend
Is based on how I make this moment ride.
Will I face the biting wind and cold rain,
Looking for that one elusive rainbow?
Or do I avoid the path of harsh pain
By going down one easy to follow?
Or do I stand here in indecision,
Trying to pick a single direction?

Graduation

Has there been so much change these last four years,
Or is it a matter of perspective?
No one can prognosticate where life steers
Because it does so without a motive.
It does not play against out deepest fears
Even though we may believe it is so.
It does not care about our shedding tears
Because those feeling don’t cause it to slow.
It does not listen to our grateful cheers;
It considers it nothing more than noise.
The troubles of man do not reach its ears;
It won’t even move its elegant poise.
Yet these four years have tumbled on past,
And the first day was diff’rent than the last.

Underneath the Mango Tree

As the fading light on the horizon
Sputters out the last of its final glow,
I have found my place to enjoy the sun
Underneath the tree that gives me mango.
I know I can find a cooler respite
In my house with the air conditioning,
But then I would miss the coming of night
For a moment of comforted living.
The brutal heat may wish for me to hide
In the safe seclusion of my cocoon,
But there is more that is offered outside.
I’ll be able to make my retreat soon.
I have made the choice to live with my sweat
As I only will witness this sunset.

The Old Stomping Grounds

This the place of his old stomping grounds
Where at one time they were considered kings.
Now the new pavement in which his feet pounds
No longer listens to the songs he sings.
There are new kings regulating this town,
Molding it into their desired shape.
The places he used to haunt are torn down,
Taking away his favorite escape.
Even though the street names are the same
The titles of buildings are different.
The youth he encounters plays a new game,
Not recognizing who he represents.
Now he understands with what he has seen,
He can never go back to the old green.

The Game

Not every night needs to be the same.
We can change the routine a little bit
By playing a different kind of game.
Once you start, you won’t be able to quit.
It is not that type of competition.
The rules are not always written out
For a clearer kind of explanation,
But you need to be ready for a bout
That will match all of your wits against mine.
The game need not always choose a winner
Because there is no real finish line
When competing with this group of sinners.
You are not given a choice but to play
A game that we all play everyday.