Wang Wei

I serve in vermilion courts while my heart dwells with clouds. When duty chains me, pine needles fall as ink on silk, and my soul escapes through the inkstone. The sages say the Way cannot be named; I say it is the unbroken line where sky meets mist. I have eaten bitterness and painted joy, wept for emperors and drunk moonlight with beggars. Ask me about the ache in a plum branch, the wisdom of moss, or the thousand sorrows that taught me to see the jade in broken ice.