What is this country in my mind I've wandered through

for all these years,

this land of hills and valleys,

streams and rivers I have crossed,

mountains I have climbed, forests, meadows,

tangled jungles where I was lost

but somehow found my way to this place

filled with memories where I can see

where I have been and nothing is forgotten.

It's where my childhood lives

in a tiny house hidden in a forest

far from here in the long ago

where it's dark and hard to find, but I remember

living there, a little boy, frightened and alone,

wishing I could speak and be understood

when I cried.

But I became a young man who wandered like a gypsy,

a vagabond, happy to be traveling through my mind,

though there were times when I was lost at sea,

like Odysseus, not knowing if I'd ever find the beach

that I was searching for, always on a quest,

looking at horizons I thought I'd never reach.

And now, an older man, my mind is living

in this island town where my imagination has brought me

with all the landscapes I have known

the winding roads that weaved their way past marriages,

raising kids, working hard and lessons I have learned.

It's here, after all these years of traveling without a map,

of living with uncertainty, of making my geography

by creating who I am, molding, shaping,

letting passion and intuition guide me to this land.

It's here in my poet's mind where it's lovely and serene,

and I'm in the garden of my dreams

looking out at Saigon Bay glistening in the morning air,

or walking on the beach listening to the music of the waves,

still looking at horizons, but also at my feet

standing in the sand,

where I sing these love songs to my life,

these rhapsodies that overcome despair and rage,

so I can be as happy as I can, while I can,

loving this island in my mind and where I am.