#mar.2016

He’s pulling so hard against his tether, she’s only seventy degrees from hitting dirt. A stubbornness that appears bred into him; they say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.

They’re wrong, of course. With enough patience, you can change their entire world; they can change yours.

They also, sometimes, say that whatever name you give them could mark them for the rest of their life. If so, “Bear” might not have been the wisest choice.

Such a magnificent creature. His coat, dark as ink; slender frame, befitting a German Shepard; tall, particularly for his breed. I’ve seen few dogs with such an overt display of personality.

They walk together; an amusing pair. His strength being met with her consistency. Every few feet, she stops, gives a curt “Bear!” followed by a tug to his leash, and then they resume; in precisely the same manner.

Caught in a perpetual battle of wills; he just seems eager to discover the world before him - she, earnest to show him the value of pacing yourself.

Mama says, “Wear your Seatbelt, Baby boy” Always trying to protect you. Mama says, “Don’t get too Close to the water, Baby boy.” And “Don’t fight them, Baby boy.” And “Do what they say, Baby boy.” And “Come home, Baby boy. Come home; Come home; Come home.” Mama says, “Goodbye, Baby boy.”

Baby boy, With your skin Uprooted from the earth. You kept walking. They got faster. You started running. They got faster. Felt their strength Against your head; Tasted the oncrete Between your teeth. You started crying. They kept coming. Felt like dying. They kept coming. Heard the rush Of the water. “Where we going?” Rope around hands. “What they doing?”

“Stay away from the water, Baby boy. Just stay away.”

The river’s dried up now. Nothing to hide their anger. The currents all gone now. Nowhere to drown their hatred.

Mama’s saying “Goodbye” now. Hoping she’ll see you in Heaven. Father’s saying “Time to come Home now; here’s a safe haven.” No more fear from their safety. No more running from their security. No more hiding your face behind a Veil of “Don’t look guilty.” No more hoods pulled low; Waking just slow Enough to conserve your energy For the sprint that you Never stop preparing Yourself for. “Breathe, Son. Breathe.”

These hands. These hands are so empty. These hands cannot remember the Weight of your choosing to stay Over the Weight of your choosing to leave. Such a simple decision, Amassed over night, A massive absence Left in the wake; My mistress absent Left me awake.

My vessel tossed on the Waves of gravity; Failing to understand these Flailing hands. These hands Flinching, Falling, Failing, Crawling; Fighting to grip, To grab hold, To slow the slip of My dares, My dreams too bold.

Your gravity, A season. You found me in the Fall, Left in the Spring; Bouncing, Bounding; Your silence Sounding Roll call.

Everything succumbs to Relativity. The reality is I never really held you. You merely allowed your Orbit to rest, Brief respite, Between my Right and my Left; ‘gainst my Right and my Wrong. Your body clashing Against my body,

Til we were no Body. No Weight. No Mass. No Choice.

Thôi mình gác lại nỗi đau Hẹn trời xin để kiếp sau trả dần. Thôi mình xin được một lần Vui cho quên hết mấy phần đắng cay.

大相撲春場所

　大阪府立体育館で行われていた大相撲大阪場所が終わってしまった。

Những chuyện gì đã cũ

Những thứ gì đã xa

Em hãy quên đi nhé.

Còn có Anh đây mà!

Hãy để ngày trôi qua

Chẳng buồn phiền lo lắng.

レコーディング日記