shadowed elegy

A wild flower flickered in the Monkey King's palm—small as proof, loud as a crown He taught it tricks of wind and riddle-speech, to cart the dusk and tumble kingdoms down Its petals rewrote maps: veins as poems, each fold a compass that makes old borders frown So from that stubborn bloom a new legend grew, stitching history to song and earning its own renown

The bloom began to inventory the impossible: receipts for storms, a ledger of vanished streets and small apologies It listed a moon with pockets, a compass that read which childhood you'd be tomorrow, a church spattered in origami birds Rivers were filed under "waiting," mountains cataloged by the taste of their shadows, borders stamped with lullaby signatures The Monkey King watched the list sign

The bloom tucked a giggle into the margins, folding receipts into paper frogs that hopped names like marbles, They croaked corrections—"Turn here, the horizon is on holiday"—and ribboned the borders with jaunty asides, The Monkey King snapped back, assigning mountains to improvise and rivers to practice slapstick by moonlight, Ledger and monarch became a call-and-answer: one lists the impossible,;

The Monkey King unstrung his laughter; his palms opened to a hush that settled like ash, The bloom folded its brightest petal inward, a small benediction for the streets it once remade, Paper frogs, mid-hop, softened into paper boats and drifted toward the margins of moonlight and memory, Ink began to list kinder particulars: names forgiven, the exact angle of a goodbye, the bloom learning to grie

The Monkey King cupped a paper boat; the moon taught it a hush, and the bloom hummed a lullaby softly The ledger folded inward into one benediction, names arranged into commas that let go softly Paper frogs kept time like a careful heartbeat, croaking small choruses that mended the tear of night softly The King's crown unknotted into syllables of forgiveness; he practiced them until mercy returned

The ledger peeled up like a skin of sky; receipts swam out as silver minnows and rewired the streetlamps' memories Paper boats unmoored from moonlight, rowing down alleys that unfurled into paper accordions and sighed confessions The Monkey King's practiced syllables ballooned into weather — a blizzard of commas that rearranged doors into singing mouths One bloom petal burst into tiny maps that l+

Petal burst into tiny maps that became ticket-flips, alleys folding into a painted midway of vows; Booths bloomed like temples: a sideshow of smiling ancestors, fortune-tellers threading futures with threadbare stars; The King, part ringmaster and trickster deity, beat a drum that sent constellations down to ride the ferris moons; Bloom hung pennants stitched from forgiven names; the streets donn

donned papery regalia—porches wearing pennants that read forgiven names like prayer the midway folded into a hush, laughter learning the slow grammar of leaving and blessing a dusk-mantle settled, a silhouette of lament humming through the ferris moons until even tricksters bowed the Monkey King laid his crown among the boats; the bloom breathed one last map that scattered absolutions like seeds