Rare Earth
were as finely carved, as full of imagery as his father's jades, as beautifully painted as the brush strokes on the sandalwood fans of his mother.
"The Mind is a Boat
That glides
On waves of thought,
Through cloud mysteries
Never ending;
Steering a course
Quite steadily
Into mazes
Of colorful Dreams."
Again he wrote a verse of extreme simplicity.
"Consider flowers.
Men break them,
Drag them from their homes,
Trample them into dust
And in return
They give perfume.
Sometimes it seems
The very wonder
Of fragile flowers
Is measured
By their capacity for giving."
[49]
