By (Chen Zhao) Esmerel@hotmail.com
Date: 15 June 1998

The Hour

The Hour

Stranger in the mysterious hour that hides as a                  
passing dream, mindless fancy
The time when dusk stumbles into the arms of dawn. 
You, apparition of mine,
           I fear
That I’ve known you 
        in some other life
Under foreign white stars which dripped their ancient tears
                     upon us making tracks
Across silver sands which shimmered like new snow in a 
permanent wonderland, slowly
   As slow as eternity, your eyes as they gaze, the air as it 
                                 breathes, waiting, waiting
There is once again, no more hurry, as the world drains of its potency
      Past recognition, once again 
                                  taken 
By the irreverent dream that had come for me
  during some night black as ink so so long ago.