In the Forbidden City

You
live in the forbidden city,

so I

took
my first lesson from you
in becoming
fulfilled.

I took

the new door
of a fugitive life

to open
the window,
to open
life.

You
live in the forbidden city,

so

in your
name
I swore.

I swore
by the seven skies

and

in the name
of the hypocritical God
of this whole world.

And yet—

if you
and the touch
of your body

swallow me
with the sins
of birth,

of rebirth.

That sin

which
by birth itself
was written,

became

a curse
for all my life.

Yet

the life
that keeps flowing,

I

had gone
to you

to make
that life
pure.

Only

between us

there was

an unrestrained
coming and going
of words.

Perhaps

there was
some forbidden
exchange.

The hypocritical God
of the firmament

was watching—

or not,

I do not know.

I only

knew this:

we
had no God.

And I—

even now

am not
fulfilled.

Nor
am I pure.

Only

I

stand

near the door

of your
forbidden city.

Standing there.

Still.

The door

does not
open.

The window

does not
open.

Nor does it
fade—

this age-old
longing

to become
pure.