Crepuscule Of Alley Poem by Henry Tong

Beneath Gilded eaves,
stone lions are spitting
a heavy, permeating smog.

Scattered particles
the infinitesimal dances
diffracted delusions.

Tardy footsteps see through
their projection on the wall
decayed into mottled cracks.

As a humble faith arose
from the puddle in the sun,
it dreaded hands on clocks.

Time was carved in the bricks
that reversed subtleness
in the sinuous Hutong alley.

The sun shall not cover
the message of crepuscule,
nor it hides Yinyang
in the snow.