Snow Skin Moon Cake

Her skin was like a moon cake, a snow skin,

Like an Asian famous made with fine durian

She comes to you in assorted flavors.

Coconut, Egg yolk, fresh and exotic

Her eyes were like a million black holes in the burning phase for a thousand years.

Tears were like diamonds of her soul, never stopped in the third dimension.

A tree and a seed and a look of curiosity

A weird taste, she admitted and never tasted herself either.

Calling from outside and burning from inside

A taste lasts for thousands of lives and thousands of mouths.

Identity of the cake, someone asks

Who are you then?

What kind of mixture you have

How you were cooked and raw and matured again and transformed into an exotic cake

No identity she mentioned has never been a quiet confession but a truth

Just an exotic cake chose to be here

At this very moment

To make your world a better place

With her existence without any judgment, any space and time

A cake never dies and is never born again.

A cake lives in limbo and is heavenly and raised in hell.

A fresh cake forever in the present

Rushes from the mouth to the heart

A taste you have never experienced before.

It tastes like a whole universe squeezed into one little cake.