It does not come naturally

I swear my heart will crumble
The moment I let go
A broken china vase
With blue
tattoos of eunuchs and storerooms
of mountains of unreadable scrolls
Waterlogged purple delphinium
Stand proud, dying, buds
Move on! The spectators shout, move on!
I cannot, my hands are cut and bleeding
I cannot, is it flower water, sweat or tears?
Leaking.

Not until it blooms!
Not until it blooms
Will I let go
and wonder why it never bloomed.

Craig Huang - 18/03/2024