Outlines

They said I am full of grief

and I agreed with them

my lungs have breathed too much disappointment

in this life

I am not myself, I said

but later I disagreed

for this is what I am, now

Don't misunderstand

I still see joy in every gift of nature

and finally see the hope a child can bring

but my shadow turns to the suns of yesteryear

and I blink at every disappearance

eclipsed 

Incidents at the Shrine

I do not know if I can bring back my flowers

The soil is sparse

and you never wanted to be a god, anyway

But I can still capture the touch of lightness

and our astonishment when we met in that place outside of all this

Since then the lands and the seasons

the constant turning

has tired me

and I went many times and you were not there

If I come, will you hold me, make any promises, is ours something rooted that reaches to the sky

Or do we remain as incidents

albeit at the shrine