Lee and I have been finding ways to share our experience with ourselves, each other, and with people back home. After both writing what began as a journal of thoughts, we blended our ideas and expressions to see what would come about. Our individual sharing overlapping to create a shared narrative of thoughts and ideas.
Sifting through what appeared as chaotic text, nuggets of blossoming language came through. With a little work patterns made themselves evident, and out of that emerged phrases that captured more than Lee or I could have articulated on our own.
So here I share a piece of poetry. It's not a form of writing that I have tried since high school, but it's a piece that I'm quite proud of. It documents what has passed, how we feel about the present, and how we're looking towards to the future.
You, are more likelyto bethat we are here,
and tonight we foundmymostly satisfied.
The current,fosters an awarenessof your physical world.
Maybe it is a place of dreams,
final lines and fade outsfull of special occasions.
Delicate is the matter at hand.
A dark canvasfor my interesting ways.First and foremost,my mind.
We were of this needbefore we arrived,in stories and time.
Those who are moved by sadnessown closeness.
An awareness ofourownIdream here, almost every night.
My Iis still delicate.
The inner stories of our awareness,of our own delicacy,
I have more luckmaking sense of existence here.
There are of course thoughts
making sense of the senses
a few Phnom Penh's.
Maybe it is a place of dreams.
The moon long changed friends here.A dark canvas for my mindbefore we even arrived in my mind.
Nowis an awareness ofourown delicacy.
I would like to thinkthat we knewto project uponthe inner stories of Cambodia,but I don't knowthat it was this.
And making senseof the senses.
No matter how much we dreamand be awake at the same time,
what most people call fate,
our tendency towards senseand moreto feel.
So much is left.
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