Double Ninth: Communion with the Infinite
By William He
Clouds shift, peaks transform — unbounded thoughts take wing,
Steeped in chrysanthemum wine, I sway on the supreme peak.
The wind drives white geese past the last verge of glow,
My mind sinks into dark ravines, chasing a dream it cannot name.
The lightning mirror opens — mortal delusions scatter like startled birds,
Heaven and Earth lean close, and the first light pours through.
I do not call this communion a phantom, a thing of sleep,
And cup the vastness in two hands, the vastness cups me back.
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