I am the fool
That ran to the saturated greens
Of the Jiulian Mountain.
Meditated in the mist,
Sang in the temple,
At night, grew silent.
Towards most, I was silent,
But still, with my practice, was a fool.
Reverent love was called for by the temple,
But I gave mine to her brown eyes that hid soft greens,
Saying "we were meant to meet," and when our affections were shrouded by the mist,
I didn’t care about the mountain.
My home was the mountain
For thirty days, five of them silent.
Within that time, the trees let their mist
Enter the mind of this fool.
Her former lover gave me greens.
It disrupted my dhyāna, distracting me with jealous thoughts in that temple.
She stood behind me in the temple,
So I knew that first day on the mountain
That she looked best in burgundy and tea greens:
Phthalo, carmine, and rosewood. Though, I stayed silent
About my feelings. I acted like a fool.
Still penetrating my thoughts was the mist.
Obscuring the path to meals was mist,
So, to eat at the grounds of the temple,
Daily I had to descend –– this fool ––
While seeing so little, the mountain.
But she walked with me. Always. Sometimes silent.
Constant as the Fujian flora’s greens.
Her interest became apparent, and I felt jealousy of her former lover fading, those greens.
As certain as the mist.
Days of note-passing turned to silent
Declarations of fancy, as we star-gazed on the roof of the temple.
My confidante was the mountain
As I finished my errand of the fool.
The greens I encounter throughout my life will always return me to the temple
Where I first met her gaze, and the mist I left on that mountain
Has ensured that I will never again be the silent fool.
About the Creator
kp
I am a non-binary, trans-masc writer. I work to dismantle internalized structures of oppression, such as the gender binary, class, and race. My writing is personal but anecdotally points to a larger political picture of systemic injustice.
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