The roof over his head was the problem.
He needed the fresh lake air,
And the boundless bare sky.
He yearned to sit on the balcony,
To gaze upon the infinite,
And decode the endless expanse.
Instead he was waiting for night,
Staring up at the white moon stamped on blue.
His impatience was pooling,
For in the stars were written his delight.
Yet the sun and the moon were dangerously close,
He was forced to check his greed.
Then a vast shadow was cast,
Flooding the land with shade,
Starting with the mountains,
Shrouding his lakeside home as it went,
Over the water, beyond the horizon.
He looked up from his greed.
He then observed something strange,
A dragon had swallowed the sun,
It was an un-foretold eclipse that he saw,
With no warning to the Emperor.
No prior calculation had uncovered this,
Some fatal detail he had surely missed.
But his dread sank low,
Below the lake’s churning waters,
Amongst the silence of the birds,
Whom, perched in trees, grew disconsolate.
He fell to his knees under some immense pressure,
As this failure would be his final inadequacy.
All of nature shrank away,
As night had been formed from day.
And when once the stars had spelled delight,
Now they foretold his death,
Before the next true night, for the Emperor;
Chung K’ang was rash in punishing
As the officials galloped on their horses,
To Xi’s house where he knelt still,
The sound of drums echoed in the north,
Before the sun’s following light began to spill,
It was not only the light that adorned his floor,
There was spill of red that would soon fade