Under the cairn
—dedicated to Choco

Under the cairn,
The sad light blooms.
It stirs dry music

In echopathic tunes. 
It stirs shadows 
Too thin to temper. 

It speaks in whispers near 
The gloom,

Leaving limbs 
Of beetle trails, describing
The gentle Tongue of Stones.

Clutching (occasionally) 
At passersby—all too quick to 
Endure familial warmth,

All too eager to enter another dream:
A much greener reverie; 

Blades of grass 
New and cut; perhaps 
A better weather still—

A beautiful forecast 
For the day 
Ahead; a fine tress 

Of the impossible art, 
Weaving softly like a simple song, 

Holding the land 
Like marble-veins. 
Under the cairn, 

The sad light looms, 
And it is stirring still
The unspeaking roots.

Dale Chou
2012-05-11