i have always thought
that the only beauty in life
is to discover irresistible possibility in the impossible.
poised between falling and not falling,
between yes and no,

and i have always thought that the only
sorrow in life is to discover sheer impossibility
among limited possibilities.

so many things left unfinished–
an unkept promise,
some unreadable desires,
and the unacknowledged need
lurking in my heart that beats
irregularly–

yet the sadness in my eyes
signifies that love is
like a dewdrop hidden
in a dry well, refusing to vanish.

perhaps all vows of love
are lies that can’t come true,
only in an involuntary shiver,
as bitter as lemon, is one reminded
of those summer nights when love
was still new…

the sighs of midnight
still murmur in my throat.
everything in its compartment–
the how, the when, even the how-much,
has dissipated slowly, steadily
in the evening breeze after rain.

in the endless cycle,
the flux of life;
these things will forever circle and replace each other :
blue skies and rainy days,
anticipation and regret,
the possible and the impossible,

and that which has never been lacking–
beauty and sorrow