The meetings of when

The Meetings of When
by: Ro-boat; on that River. Life.
Haku

~ sayonara sang weeping palms ~

Late`night you know... real short deals a drift... and nobody gets it. The artist weeps onto his pallet. Out of breath with the lengths. He smiles to think... 'hmm Haku, then it really doesn't matter if they don't get it.

They are only words, spread across universes pondered'.
Still... not having found.

Its thread.

~ compliance in balance of its simplest form,
is to write the reason it IS... Being ~

The Story...

She smile over a shoulder to say shyly... "my name. Is not Grasshopper in the Grass!" To saunter off into the cherry blossoms, miffed...
"Haku indeed!"

The Monk, never seen the Geisha again, strolling the spring blossoms. He took out his scribe and ink, and in masterful stokes... caught the flutter by of his feeling. "Sayonara," sang ` the weeping palm.
'Haku... indeed',
he sob.
Perfection...

In that meeting... of when. Golden Flower, his twin...
Was lost, to his Monastery's seclusions.

Often, would the Master Artist in the monk. Weep crystal reflection into his palms. To read his Haku, upon the wall of his solitary cell of Meditations of a Universe. Without his participation. To save, his cherished cherry blossom spring tears. That at the end of life, he may drink her flutter by's dreams beauty of her Ancestors, and Eternal Perfection. Captured Haku...
in all, he had missed.

There is such beauty in the seeing, into... the Culture of Art.
Where Poetry...
Is the mirror reflection, of the heart of the story

Reviews

[Ruth]

All art is a shift into focus....this is beautiful....sometimes art is not seen as it should be, why? Well...mainly because hearts are closed, not the eyes...lovely work x

[Tate Morgan]

The ancient cultures sure do have strange ways .many way beyond my own abilities to understand.Our commonality is in the humanity we share. Drinking of anothers reflection could be a way to keep them with you