12.Occident
Mercy me, the night is long.
Take my pen, to write you this song.
Lord：is it harder to carry on,
Or to know when you are done？
All my life, I've felt as though
I'm inside a beautiful memory,
replaying
with the sound turned down low.
Long-life, show your face.
Slow-heart, curb your taste.
Smoke me out of my hiding place.
Long-life, state your case.
What in the world are we waiting for-
building glowing cities along the shore,
where the wind batters,
baiting my kin like a matador？
So much value, placed upon
what lies just beyond our plans：
waving my handkerchief,
running along, till the end of the sand.
Long-life, speak your name.
I'm so tired of the guessing game.
But, something is moving,
just out of frame：
lSlow-heart,
brace and aim.
Breaching slowly, across the sea,
one mast-
flash, like the stinger of a bee-
to take you away,
a swarming fleet is gonna take you
from me.
The universe is getting loose：
sodden spread,
from some leaden disuse,
rushing, unhinged,
towards diminishing lights,
like a headless caboose.
I'll wait for you,
alongside the ocean,
and make do
with my no-skin.
But then, Long-life,
will you let me in？
And then, Slow-heart,
are you gonna know him？
Long-life, speak your name,
I wait, while I decry the wait.
And when I die, may I relate：
Slow heart, congregate.
To leave your home, and your family
for some distortion of property？
Well, darling, I can't go.
But you may stay
here, with me.
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