Things Lost Along the Way

Tonight, The milk bowl moon comes back. Sitting alongside, on a shadowy bough, The old white owl hoots With its inimitable yoghurt voice. And I hear the familiar eastern winds Blowing in on blind chariots In unbalanced haste, To answer me about things I've lost along the way. - is the road to my school still there? - yes, it still goes there but in a wheelchair. - what about the river in front of my home? - it's lost it's mind and sheds tears of mud. - the girls in yellow sarongs? - they wear white now. - mother? - she still sits by the gate with her oil lamp. And I lost my earthbound being, once again.