Lantern festival, pingxi

Brief lights drifting towards a crescent moon, grinning manic in the darker sky...an old mining town upon a river and circled by captivating hills, a landscape formed from the jottings of imagination and sprawled across forgotten pages...more thoughts of transience today, echoes of another dream and it's residue upon the waking eyes; another's sorrow translated upon this misleading tongue. Distances demand lengthening shadows however bright, certainty that all masques are sometimes dropped, that core which warms each inclement song and the detuned chaos of breath...even in the arching and echoed city some silence can be found, some pause upon the clock, some brief flight: what difference I wonder between the lanterns reaching wishladen towards an imaginary god deafened and illiterate and the footsteps of those others which define our uncertain hour....