Critical Wisdom @ 50 In my fantasy.

Each time I stroll down Under the pine trees And steps into Its slithering-like roots With broken pathways. And the white building next to it Where lovers play and You can slump if you want And watch the Lake plays the dusk. In my fantasy I will build a bamboo cottage On the mound of the Plateau, not far away from the white building With open porches, No fenced-in yard To box the kubings tune. Apollo, I will invite To stay with me Together with Abdullah. Perhaps, Toto and Inday, too. Dong and Fatima maybe wants To spare a time Welcome is everbody. We will sit together in the Open porches And listens to dream-echoes, soothing. We will talk about globalization, or Sometimes read books about multiculturalism And eat healthy chayote fries. The Lake sends healing fog And neighbors pass-by to say Salaam, and fraternity flows to us Sitting on the hope of our bamboo cottage Till the nocturnal silence arrives. We will walk side by side Barefoot to the blades of golf grasses Past the neatly lined fresh classrooms Where we will get well. Fear no more grips our soul Instead wisdom embraces us While the fire tree blooms Spreading brilliance far and wide We shine. People look at us With awe of proud simplicity Cold mist digs the closed heart Melting it like the pot Sweet smell of aromatic wind Blows and calm us For we know the meaning of myth. Nobody can put us down together We are the messiah, From my plateau To the world. We get strength in my bamboo cottage With the maroon badge glowing The darkness envious upon us For we are sure Tomorrow when we turn 50 We let ourselves know Here, where my bamboo cottage is planted We found the gold That cannot be compensated So life for us. No more fantasy.