poetry by colin w campbell
www.colincampbell.org
copyright colin w campbell
Out of the Mist
I dreamt that I might find my way
on a mountain path from long ago.
High on the slopes
of Mount Wudang,
where endless clouds, flow soft below
to carry me back to the time
of the Tang.
I dreamt I heard the masters pray
on a mountain top with Kublai Khan.
When
out of the mist came old Xuanwu,
to guard the land in the days of the Yuan
with all
the things the ancients knew.
I dreamt my path led far away
to a place I knew so long
ago.
Where heaven measures Yin and Yang
and endless dreams, flow soft below
to carry
me back to the time of the Tang.
Out of the Mist was accepted for publication in Blinking Cursor Issue Three, 2010.
Read at Yunnan University, April 2011.
