ying xiong
Three thousand years ago I went to China because I wanted to learn. I wanted to learn to fly. I wanted to know what it's like to float on the breeze, sword in hand, with no chance of the flying daggers or the millions of arrows piercing my delicate and quiet skin.
I would come back from my sojourn, the Hero, and save my homeland. I would become the one who could lead us into a new millennium of peace, prosperity, and love. But it never happened.
I never came back. I stayed in China. I sat quietly on a mountain top and drank tea with mystics, traveled the frozen deserts of Mongolia, flew over the lofty heights of the mountains, swam in it's deep cool rivers, and loved deeply the land and it's people. I never became the hero I thought I was meant to be, I became something else. I became the sky and the land. I became the fire and the stone. I became the pebble in the stream. I became, China.