Memories of Shanbei come in shades of black and white.
Amid the stones of Oxford past and present he paints it.
I reach out to touch it, real but not concrete.
Celtic mists swirl in with rain from the West
to shower the East, clouded in the spirit of the Dao, and meet
in the mind of the artist. Fingers grasp the brush to request
the muses for movement, swift and light.
Brushstrokes colour the paper red with his spirit.
His being connects time and his energy fires
a gateway to the here and now, and clear
ahead cranes point skyward with the dreaming spires.
Visions of a future beyond hard lines appear.
To the music of a new time in a new place
The artist walks alone into the white space.
Dao literally translates to ‘the path’ and is the guiding philosophy behind Taoism. There is no one way of looking at it, and accepting its fluidic meaning is part of following its doctrine.
Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you too have a poem you’d like to submit, do mail us at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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