The Dream of an Urbanite

A poem of mine published in the literary magazine "International Gallerie"
Painting by my artist friend Tang Yeok Khang

As I lay me down to sleep

in the cradle of the Valley of Ashes,

images of concrete in my mind do seep.

Muscular modern structures rising from marshes

stare me down like steely, stolid gods,

paying no heed to my scarred wishes.

Men in grey-black suits shuffle in hordes

through the streets paved with cruel tar,

the cogs of their minds turning by rusty rote.

In this alien kingdom nothing rules like cars,

which line up orderly bumper to bumper

from the cracked pavement to the dying stars.

Now up in the smoky air I hunger-linger,

waiting to chance upon a crystal piece of sky,

where dreams and wishes inspire wonder.

The sun breaks through and a window strikes.

The world ignites as on the seventh day,

when Man himself was still god-like.

In a garden dressed in the purity of May,

He strolls in the midst of vast divinity,

never knowing nothing of pure gold can stay.

The glorious days flow on to infinity,

offering elfin dreams in eternal solace.

Among blood-red hyacinths He finds empathy.

Nature and Man each other deeply embrace,

until the two are one and the very same,

and He drowns in redness leaving no trace.

When Man has erased Himself in Nature’s name,

nothing of virgin beauty will be at stake.

Greed and envy are now wild beasts tame.

And if I should die before I wake,

do not weep or say clumsy child-prayers.

For now my wishes a trillion stars shall make.

Edward Ong

Amsterdam, 2010