An Agent I am
in me
the identity of the tree
as i look
and as i talk
i help it send a message
of its existence
so as the next tree
and the next tree
and the next
from the mountain too
i receive a signal
that latches onto my inner self
and every object in sight
the rain, thunder
dance of nature
i am pulled into
the feeling
that each object
arouses in me
a stamp
of their message
good or bad
a storm ensues
what a frustration to learn
that after all the glory
we heap on ourselves
we are but mere
media for all the forms
to project themselves
in the world
as i look at
the tree
this drowsy feeling
it fuels in me
and as i open my mouth
the world is stamped
with its identity
message
good or bad
the feeling to chop
down the other tree arises
one tree subtly using me
as an agent
without me even
knowing it
me drowned
in all the messages
i shed tears over
world's clashes
nature's helplessness
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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