Rushing, as if to a tryst, I ride
a Flying Phoenix bike to the students
at Democracy Wall. Amidst the clutter
of red ink news about local elections, dead
heroes, living monsters—a modest
message penciled in blue:
“Dreams follow no party line!”
In the heat of politics, debates,
firm resolutions for what is
to be done, someone posted a plea
to let minds wander, to warn
against quick balms for China’s
ancient ills. I, too, came hungry
for clear answers, only
to be reminded: dreaming
well done is always
pointless.
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