First it was the Peace pagoda, with its height and sharp angles
Poor thing! it must have seen war and its many ugly stories
so it must hold on to itself tightly against the autumn wind.
Cherry trees eager to lose their leaves lightly sway in its shadow
a breezy yellow against the crisp blue tones of November sky
because their time of spelndor is not here yet, they must wait.
The pagoda stands shrouded in metaphor.. is it a symbol of peace?
In its silent indignation, it is perhaps a riddle for future generations?
Then it was a beautiful old church with its wonderful architecture
stained glass windows stream early evening light in golden hues
there were hundreds of lit candles and someone playing the organ
a jolt of memory; a burst of fragrance - of marigolds and incense
it was a different time and a different place, yet the same reverie
I appreciate the two people praying in shrines to their patron saints
I hope with a deep conviction that their hearts and lives find peace
this too was an imposing and magnificent metaphor.. but of what?
Poor thing! it must have seen war and its many ugly stories
so it must hold on to itself tightly against the autumn wind.
Cherry trees eager to lose their leaves lightly sway in its shadow
a breezy yellow against the crisp blue tones of November sky
because their time of spelndor is not here yet, they must wait.
The pagoda stands shrouded in metaphor.. is it a symbol of peace?
In its silent indignation, it is perhaps a riddle for future generations?
Then it was a beautiful old church with its wonderful architecture
stained glass windows stream early evening light in golden hues
there were hundreds of lit candles and someone playing the organ
a jolt of memory; a burst of fragrance - of marigolds and incense
it was a different time and a different place, yet the same reverie
I appreciate the two people praying in shrines to their patron saints
I hope with a deep conviction that their hearts and lives find peace
this too was an imposing and magnificent metaphor.. but of what?
Then it was at the lookout. The wind was blowing cold against the skin
a sprawling city lay below; a metaphor for human achievement?
a father walking his daughter home and he is skipping along with her!
"Will you mourn me? Will you pray for me?" - Suddenly a tear appears
in the shape of a glass sphere.. stays standstill in the vacuum shimmering.
Look closely, you find the desire of the entire universe reflected in it
with its vast emptiness longing to find something.. something palpable
to feel alive, to know its own complicated self! Of course, a metaphor!
I want to keep running.. past those 6 miles, past the palpable desire, past eternity
into the arms of nothingness and into pure bliss! Is it really a metaphor?
