If I could /Mike Lim

If I could      /Mike Lim

If I could,

I would set my longing free—

a single white cloud

drifting past the mountain crest,

touching no leaf,

stirring no silence,

not even the echo of your name.

The mountains do not move.

Morning settles on their shoulders,

layer by layer,

painting the years

in tender jade.

The words I never spoke

rest somewhere inside the mist,

waiting for a wind

to carry them—

a whisper meant for no one,

yet heard by all.

My heart has always belonged to the road—

gathering blossoms

wherever they fall,

leaving yesterday

behind at every bend.

Not because I have forgotten,

but because I have learned

that clouds are born to wander,

mountains keep faith with the seasons,

and every road

was always meant

to vanish past some farther hill.

Still, I carry one small lamp

that never goes out—

and by its light,

every farewell

becomes a way of going home.

So I walk on,

light as a cloud,

still as a mountain,

carrying a lamp

that has never once

forgotten how to burn.

Written on June 25, 2026.

Revised on July 1, 2026. 

#MyWriting2026