poetry

Posthumously.

Silencio. 

πŸ”œπŸ”œπŸ”œ

Imaje no aqui.

😠😠😠

If he was still around, would we all be drunkards.

I think not.

Still be made available what we all sought after.

You were the first immortal,

Sijo Hung.

Some will and still say and flourished at the sight of,

what it means to be fearless.

There are no sick men of Asia,

Only greedy ones as best first of their pride and greed.

Yes Master Yuan Jia,

Your teaching made me laugh at fear and use it for my tears.

Inspiration, Influence and yes  resilience that 

You taught that to the last and final Dragon,

the one who still have us in awe what he gave us.

A culture not of isolated idolatry,

A culture not of materlistic possessions,

A culture not of pride,

greed and advantageous that 

Caters only to oneself.

I don’t think so.

Sure I may have less than a fraction from my old grandmother.

Either way,

I am not closing the door,

. . not my mouth.

. . . not even my eyes.

Enough.

If the great one gave us a chance in life.

Why can’t the world,

wake up.

and let their reality be dissolved in the empathic way of dying.

Can anyone really say I have been there and count each breath

and ask none but their life be an example.

What truly Life is.

For you,

Sijo Wong Fei Hung, Sijo Yuan Jia, Yip Man,

and the last one,

In his spirit and equality first in mind

last an enduring fight that can never die.

Sijo Bruce Lee.I

Yes we are,

Yes we were,

We all are.

A candle that can,

but we are not.

Fight the good fight.

In unity men and women can stand in the fear of death.

Because of that, death can say too.

It’s enough, I hear ya and will give life chance.

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