clouds disperse

wu bu wei

you should do something with your life

by no means should you let it end

 

through wisped braids on puppeteer swings

ive learned a martially different tempo

from step and slide, to step and sweep

i now slip and dance the ebb of the flow

 

a crane in the fog, on the backfoot

the balancing act of falling

learned from the ripples in the water

chase the tide, pretend to let go

 

do nothing and do everything

like a bird in the wind

 

an old mountain hymn a tower in the sky

wind songs and whistled elegies

i can float too

a stringed wisp my arms flayed high

 

on step and sweep, pivot and glide

a martially limb-tied execution

if sweep comes to clinch, ill let go

ill chase the mist, do something else

with strings you can't fly, you hang there falling

but by no means do you want it to end

i want paper crane wings

i still miss my old friends

but i can no longer dance in a way

that my strings dont get caught in the wind

i want to learn how to fly

i want my crane wings to be yellow

 

underneath the painted morning mist

a shadow of a crane, a sun-crest hue

ill cut my strings, ill fly away

leaving my paper crane tower behind