Blossoms fall in spring

The festival grounds where one of peace, relaxation, and intrigue.  Though the formers didn’t always match up with the later, within this realm it all seemed to make sense.  Attendants within the world often appeared to be that if one and the same, and yet different all at once.  There was no shortage of laughter, drink, and entertainment.  A pause from the cruelty that the world of reality so often opted to bestow on individuals, specifically those whose livelihood depended on war.  Asahi couldn’t say he counted himself among such a people, but….he also knew that this was a conscious decision that could be shattered as easily as a dropped glass by a careless waiter.

Sitting outside, a piece of paper in front of him and accompanying quill to his right he considered his surroundings.  People moved just as the sea ebbs and flowed, coming and going.  He recognized some tell tale signs of folks from lands he had never visited, and some of which he had no recollection.  Not a difficult feat as he often had skived off many of his opportunities to learn of the greater physical world.  Picking up the quill he allowed it to twirl in his hand, thinking.

Though he was away from home, he still attempted to withhold to certain principals.  This day, he has decided to abstain from drink or food until he had competed another haiku.  His garden wasn’t here, hardly a place for calligraphy, and with all the noise meditation was a pipe dream.  So, a little poetry among the sakura blossoms seemed the best recourse.  Even still, he admired that the muse of spring had not deemed to come visit him just yet.  Blue eyes watched the pink petals as they seemed to endlessly fall from the trees surrounding him.  

Pink blossoms fall now
Innocence abound all around now
Used up, it’s gone now

The ink had moved across his page before he could put too much thought into the words.  He had merely commented on the falling blossoms, only to realize their beauty was fleeting, as the bare tree was left behind.  He assumed there was some real symbolism there, and the words on the page seemed to agree.  Innocence was a commodity that was often used up, and when it was gone there was no getting it back….even if the moments with it seemed to be able to last forever.  

He wasn’t sure why, but the haiku he had written filled him with a deep sadness, one that even his more darker writings had failed to inspire in him.  They on the other hand had seemed to draw out some of the poison he’d had after that terrible journey.  Frowning slightly he read the words agin, a blossom falling to stand contrast on the white paper just below the black ink.  A small sigh, and then a wry smile, the work was done.  Taking the paper, he left it sitting on a different table, so that someone else may come by and read it. 

Exit

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