A Chinese poem written by Shu Ting
"You believed in your own story,
then climbed inside it...
a torquiose flower.
You gazed past ailing trees,past crumbling walls and rusty railings.
Your least gesture beckoned a constellation
of wild vetch, grasshoppers, and stars
to sweep you away into immaculate distances.
The heart may be tiny
but the world's enormous.
And the people in turn believe...
in pine trees after rain,
ten thousand tiny suns, a mulberry branch
bent over water like a fishing rod,
a cloud tangled in the tail of a kite.
Shaking off dust, in silver voices
ten thousand memories sing from your dream.
The world may be tiny
but the heart's enormous."
Painting and Poem given to me by Emily Grimsley