In China and everywhere today,
People make as much noise about a coming year,
Maybe to drive away those spirits
Making them poor, sick,
And their loved ones dead—
As if the endless flaring flowers of fire
In the midnight sky
Were not a beacon for the spirits
To always find their way back
Seated on the four corners of the dark.
Rest in peace, Sir. I learned so much from you. And in a strange, roundabout way, you helped me become confident enough to believe that I could actually be good at this. Thank you.
