– by Jaihoon

Asked he,

Where in the world from you write
Lines which as the sun shine bright

Wherefrom you collect these pearls
Love which with our soul curls

Wherefrom you pluck these roses
Perfumed are we with His fragrance

Said Jaihoon,

These are not mine
The lines that you call fine

Neither the blade nor the mine
Neither the cup nor the wine

I’m a lifeless rock
HIS Rain causes it to break
And then the Spring of Love flows
The Breeze of Poetry in me blows

The Rain and Spring are HIS
My Pen and Ink are HIS

Ask me not how or why
With thoughts so high I fly

My Source and its Code
From His Gracious Abode!

Aug 27 2012