Three on meeting you.

Here is some thing.
I wonder if this makes sense.
It’s in part about someone I admire, who might become a friend.
And about pictures on the screen in front of me, from Hongkong beaming in.

And now where do we go?
Starring forward.
Like cowards.
Screaming, throwing hearts like stones.
Fist first, we cannot look back.
We rather regret, steps taken.
Bathing in pain.
Pain like blood.
Violence is a human condition.
When we hunger we strike.
When we are fed we ignore.
Both in blind bliss.
Balance is the key you carry always visibly.
Like others signs of religion.
For which they are haunted and beaten.

Once I asked a girl who wore a key what it would unlock.
She said her heart.
It felt pathetic, but who am I to judge.

Once I asked a boy who wore a lock and chain, who could unlock it.
A mistress of keys.
Hence not me, and I was sad.

My hearts always open.
I invite pain in.
I invite tenderness in.
These days, those are rare currency.
People too crazy to feel.

Turn to the news and see violence out of despair.
And violence for greed.

Though I shall meet you tomorrow and see what lock matches your key.


Words flow easy tonight.
Faraway friend.
Friend I see soon.
Friend I can hug.
My words have wings tonight.
My hearts filled with their flight.
I know what I know about you as much as I know what I know.
As we have met.
Mind to mind, heart to heart.
My words fly to you tonight,
to keep you warm and away from harm.


This is my funny bone.
When I first meet you, I find all the things to like.
As we grow, we find things to dislike and question, but stuff them away.
And later on, if you decide to leave I can pull these out to extinguish the pain.

Over many lives I have honed this skill.
And at the end, when the pain is nothing but ashes, I pull out the fond memories and enjoy to know that I once met you.
Funny, am I not?