Resting at the edge of a rock precipice, The light comes in, On dragon’s tooth To be alone And contemplate, A rare gift of time. The wind rushes through hair, But none must fear the edge, If one has learned to fly
Seventh month is the month is Singapore where people remember the dead and give offerings. It is said that on the seventh lunar month, the gates of hell open and the ghosts are free to return and roam the earth. Also known as Zhong Yuan Jie 中元节.
This drawing is dedicated to my neighbour that sadly decided to leave this world at a young age.
I paste my artwork on the wall outside my house But you are not here to share it with me, when you walk down the corridor. Its the seventh month, but i can’t feel any ghosts, only light. I almost died But you actually died In all my years rooftopping i never fell. If it is a matter of luck, we could trade places. Maybe if my artwork had been on the wall sooner, we might have talked and said hello. I don’t understand, in my life i met so many people to help, But i didn’t know you. The Gods gave us different paths, even though we live on the same floor. Standing above a city of lights, I have landed. You have landed as well. Hopefully somewhere better. I will pray for you. This drawing is for us. You’re dead I’m alive. We can look at the lights of the city together From the floor we live on.
Wu wei, wu wei It is whispered to us gently. We have to let go, in order to kick We have to release, in order to achieve. Balance is perfect symmetry with the universe We are one, but in one-we are many.