Lullaby

The road walks on, and
Never revealing the path, across
The fiery red, and
The cool green. 
It has seen it all—
People's tired eyes
Suffocated and drowned
Beneath the brows and sweat. 
A butterfly of many colours
Struggled to fly through
The heavy, humid air. Even
The noisy bees add to the
Irritation, of
You and I
Without reason. 
There is a hidden complex rhythm
That I may find today. 
At the place where time is always burning
And space is always condensing. 
Everything is asleep and there is no rain
For the people, and
Their dry lips, 
Dying of
Desire. 
They mumble but
Never scream, for
They are scared to death! 
Whispering seems like a better idea, 
Ever since a friend said, 
'It wasn't I, it was he.' 
His index finger is
The blind guide, 
Leading the people
To the evil solution.

Dale Chou
1999-06-17