Hanakotoba: The Japanese Language Of Flowers


Eyes Wide Shut

Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart
Victor Hugo

Another winter draws life from my heart,
Whispery breaths dance with the seasons’ fallen,
Like lost romances and stolen kisses from some lonely art,
Mysteriously swirling fires within once forgotten,

With early dying nights and falling leaves a scattering,
And standing alone, deep in thought oft am l reminded,
Of the many questions l have that need answering,
And of the ever present emptiness always uninvited,

No one ever said that life was easy for the living,
But no one said how hard it could also be,
When you look back into the yesteryears of misgiving,
And come to terms with a life of new opportunity,

My eyes wide shut, so horribly and hopelessly oblivious,
To the reality of naivety when it stares upon my face,
Ignorant as normal to the blatantly obvious,
Signs that carry the message of moonlight embrace!

Remember well do l, the day a mysterious light
Illuminated my darkest shadows…

… Hanakotoba

Ju – Qiū huā

Twas such an autumn day, when l awoke from my torpor,
Caught unawares like a hare beneath the lamp,
Many fallen seasons afore had soured my hearts’ colour,
Leaving me startled, shaken and damp,
Similar to the scattered heroes of summer,
Who now lay broken and withered upon stagnant grounds,
Awaiting their final dismissal from nature’s plunder,
Seeking absolution and release from weary brown,
Yet, caught within the trance of this autumns’ efflorescence,
Of such radiated and energetic beauty,
Was l lost for words, foolishly stumbling beneath her presence,
Like some star struck exhibition groupie,

A fountain of youth bewitched and bedazzled me that day,
Taking me back to twilight moments of reflection,
When life’s dreams mingled with reality and fantasy,
Allowing my soul to soar in seductive perfection,
The deeper l looked into the plumes of this alluring blossom,
Did l find myself shipwrecked and hopelessly spiralling,
Out of control, hapless like drifting and forgotten flotsam,
Lost in time, falling back to where once before l had been,
Fearing my awakening, from an eternity of turmoil sleep,
Without sensuality and an awareness of love,
Trapped in a myriad of fallen seasons torturously deep,
Wrought within memories no man is deserving of,

And yet imagine my surprise when upon opening my eyes,
That they should settle back to this compassionate bloom,
Softly silhouetted against the autumns’ morning’s rays,
Unfolding the many layers of her mysterious costume,
Nay, can not deny that l was transfixed,
And remember every detail of that first moment,
When perfection in a seasons’ intensity left me betwixt,
And left me feeling no longer lost and broken,
With a smouldering glimpse of both fire and ice,
That did so burn my skin yet cool it so fiercely,
Did l experience a sense of falling from greater heights,
And that still leaves me aching.

© Rory Matier 2013

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