James Tian
Facing the Sky
By James Tian
The traces she clearly knows,
I may stumble upon by chance.
They need to be covered again,
Most feared—this is a kind of respect.
The wounds she hasn’t fully recognized,
Unintentionally seen by me,
Must remain exposed,
Not feared—this is a kind of impulse.
The purpose is the cycle,
The cycle is the purpose,
I follow the latter more faithfully.
As long as the stars don’t fall,
Let loneliness marry the eyes.
