LITERATURE
When the jacaranda blooms, their blossoms pirouette to the ground. As I leapt across their starling petals, the dew from the morning’s vacua soaked my feet To wash away the dust from dusk’s reprise. And so the longing from lang syne It eddies into the gurgling streams Where the water trickles from the mountain as frost whispers away. I sit in the aura Of the jacaranda tree; In a wistless morrow Of no importance.
To think of the clock spinning in this slothful murmur, The gluttony of sweet nectar that is to stare Upon the universe, the galaxy whirling In the phantasms carved in petal-paint Where the planets dance without aim; Where the wings of the caparisoned stars That roll across the great sea Of relativity, flutter It is folly: For if this moment had ever existed at all Is but a paradox With nobody but my fickle witness To discern the muddied truth.
It is in the great mundane Where the human spectra – its different facades In abstraction, become coalesced; It is made clear that in the face of the insurmountability That is the dance of the ancients, We are but flies To be swatted away: Having not the gift To comprehend the makings of our thought nor reality — Our understanding a shallow reef In an ocean embraced by gibbous time.
But still, I smile. The impermanence hauntingly ornamental – It is a lingering whisper Of our transient existence, how fleetingly beautiful: The theatre of humanity.
So gently, I pray That this mundane serenade May follow me in life In bloom or in famine Until I rejoin the blank of my birth That is the universe’s boundless eternity.
Regina is a dreamer. From the annals of natural science to the throes of fiction and history, nothing is untouchable to her (as long as it is not the graphical circle formula!). She longs to study the English language in full and eventually spread that love as she pursues literature as a profession, and aims to obtain a doctorate in the subject.
As I close my eyes, The world will stop. Rustles of leaves quiet down, White flowers I have placed myself Will never again be touched.
The Earth bids farewell, Humming its last hymn To humanity there was. Stories of memories fade Tale by tale, they vanish away.
The soil where my footprints once stamped Will be then effaced with dust. Grass will grow tall, undisturbed The greens will cover the grays, Therefore covering the last touch of humanity.
There I see the world, Where no others are meant to exist. Now, my story ends Far I walk to the other side of the orb. I was the last.
Jiwon is a high school student who has the passion to learn about the world. She loves to see the sky and the stars. Jiwon is a talkative friend, enjoying discussions about games, food, and stories. Being a curious student, she never gives up to learn various things and then shares those as her experience.