We Are All One

When he speaks, I do not understand

He carves his metaphors from the paper,

He carves his audience, the world.

Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!

Keeping time with his music machine,

An art and DJ set.

A quick pose before he pulls the paper,

We are all outlines, incomplete.

He slows the beat, and pushes on

Dotting us into silhouettes,

Forming us with calligraphy.

He dances, we watch in awe

As he brings his message to life

Hypnotised by the movement of his ruby shoes.

Red, Yellow, Blue, he adds

Weaving all our colours together.

A face appears, his hands remain steady

Under primal rhythms.

At last, he presents his work with pride,

Exhausted from his performance

I am transfixed, inspired.

Unity.

Peace.

Love.

When he speaks, I do not understand

But his message is clear.

Osaka

I arrive in the peak of the night

The sting of the winter air renews me

My walking does the talking

I am the tourist

Who is wearing too many clothes

All eyes on me,

I am not from these parts

But I let my brown hair show, to blend.

So many bicycles, so efficient

Close calls are many, collisions are none.

I find what I seek in Dotombori

The colourful, the strange, the unique…

I find myself here.

The Golden Billiken who watch over the city

The singing crab who serenades me

The billboards who are yelling at me…

Oh, Takoyaki

You wonderful dumplings filled with magic

King of my palate.

At every corner, a cigarette club

At every turn, light, colour and noise

Assaulting my senses

I cannot get enough.

And at last, in one quiet corner of the city –

An emerald deity for quiet reflection

My humility begins to shine.