TO A SOLITARY GOOSE
 ON  SNOW
  =========================

 Immortality is the Gift for the Gods only,
 they say.
 Death is the only promise for mortals.
 All life after birth is also the time before
 dying,
 There are no seasons (four or four hundred)
 in a life but one.

 One set of goals, one set of goals
 One set of remembered paintings, one love.
 All embody life...life.
 Love of life is love of man, colour, ideas,
 success, ideals and freedom.

 I believe even the Gods clock off,
 get pissed off,
 having seen it all before
 and then fly off like
 “a solitary goose on snow”
 to that happy hunting ground in the blue...
 That womb of the universe
 with all its new colours, new adventures
 and new kinds of human beings...
 who are immortal.
 Is it not the only just reward?
 Zeus, Yahweh and Jupiter couldn’t be so
 selfish
 A place where even friends can supplicate
 for you.

  By Chris James Wee 1/4/82

The Studio 1980, ink on paper, 30 x 46 cm, Post Bali Period
 

Township with Flowers
 1981-1982 Post Balinese period
 coloured pencil drawing
about 20 inch by 12inch 1981
The town is Bondi Junction.

  
   for Christopher Wee.
   ‘The sage in winter.’

  Old now, and, as is proper to this
         season, lonely,
  I see the faint marks my life has
         made on the world
  Like transient imprints made
        ‘by a solitary goose on snow.’
  News comes : a friend has died, an
         old friend
  Whom I knew when every tree sang
        with flowers.
  The last fruit drops from the

        bare tree,
  Melancholy, ‘The time is near’,

        sighs a chilly wind.
  But there’s still an hour or two

Winter

Spring
 

Summer
 

Autumn