Listening Poem by Duy Bui

A peer of loneliness
My den of ungoverned thoughts
Not all wanton, whither I dwell
I could tread onto heaven today
Next night, may ride the moon,
or swim the sea
Free, as my eyes they reach

I’ve not quite, mount selfhood
Maybe a poet, maybe
Dull plucks, words tumble to give vent
Often times like one capricious hue
I can’t speak my life of many stories
Flock of tales I’ve carried!

Few owns himself a course
Perchance, a philosopher
Much ruminations, wisdom rise
Reflections’ wealth, behind mirrors hidden
Moralize of empty ghosts in between
Pending for nature’s green

I’ve known some prudent brooks
Conceivably a guru
A legion garb of pundits’ cloaks
Fit for a sot, such throes for the sage
Forestall young spirits, a banal road seize
Erudite minds conceive

My life seems, a babel
Perhaps, a fine musician
Play for, not moments of feelings
Conversing of immortal expressions
An orchestra of thoughts, unspoken, tough
My soul slips timeless sough