Cry the Beloved Kingdom

Self-snug in our tidy and superior world

We celebrate our polished finances

As our bloodlines dry up.

We watch the lions and tigers at happy play

But miss our soaring garuda,

Our glittering dragon.

We see the trees standing soft and tall under a warm drizzle

But thirst for the thunderbolts and deluges,

The mountain of sunyata.

We see the tents, the flags and the parade ground

But long for cut water-pipes, dead-of-night drills,

The joyous panic.

We glimpse the central kingdom cloistered in its leafy glade

Where once it sang from rocks and dust,

Roared to us from a ravenous sky.