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Tinh Yeu Lung Linh - Tuan Hung

Chalk in the pocket.
Door in the dusk.
Hinge like a heartbeat.
Latch learning trust.

I draw a quiet circle where the doorway breathes,
thin white grammar where the night unweaves.
Corners remember the curve of the hand,
sigils like snowfall that chooses to land.
I mark for arrivals who come without sound,
for weary returning who want common ground.
The stone takes a symbol and offers it rest,
chalk dust answers like milk on a chest.

Open for luck with a soft white key,
close upon harm but not upon sea.
Welcome returns that carry no blade,
grant passing to peace by the sign I made.

I write small types for a tender art,
what holds a hand and what holds a heart.
List of kind looks, set of warm names,
record of promises, fields without blame.
Optional sorrow with reason attached,
union of stories not perfectly matched.
Pointer to patience, reference to grace,
stack of small moments kept near this place.

Route for the tired, query for calm,
token is kindness, header is balm.
GET a night’s breathing, POST your return,
cache a safe hour while ember-lights burn.

I chalk for the wanderer crossing the rain,
for keys that forget and remember again.
For shoes full of gravel and pockets of leaves,
for mouths that were quiet and now want to speak.
I scribe little runes where the splinters begin,
whiten the wound so the daylight can win.
Doorframe listens. The grain takes note.
Words turn simple inside the throat.

Bind what is scattered, free what is tight,
rate-limit worry, throttle the night.
Handshake of welcome, semaphore green,
enter and loosen the weathered machine.

Love is a datatype older than fire,
sum of the small and the steady desire.
Product of holding and giving away,
keys to the room where the rough edges stay.
Schema migrates as the seasons revise,
fields gain meaning when looked at with eyes.
I chalk it in cursive too soft to declare,
syntax of mercy the door can bear.

Grant for the meek, deny to the blade,
route us to home when our courage is frayed.
Return with a body of linen and light,
status code tender, all quiet, all right.

Chalk in the pocket.
Door in the day.
Threshold remembers.
You may.

lintel Chalk, lintel Code

Half A Chance

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Se Khong Con Nua - Tuan Hung

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