Komorebi
When the last drop of rain falls upon hushed leaves,
and thin threads of hope seep through petrichor perfume of life,
an array of sun kissed colors bursts forth secrets of the sky;
a Komorebi of dreams woven amidst frolicking shadows of moonrise.
I search for an answer to the equations within my hazy mind,
I ponder if poetic verses can paint a forest burnt from ignorance?
as I’ve long been sketching drizzling sakura foliage to find healing,
from butterfly bliss strokes of faith that never fades.
But love is the celestial maestro orchestrating
a cloudless chorus-
where mockingbirds croon to the notes of the sun and moon-
reflecting along rolling ripples of liquified lakes.
Is there a summery phrase to illustrate
the gossamer warmth of cascading rays?
Maybe canopies of emeralds need no lyrical words,
for the heart of moving light only thrums and throbs in sanguine silence.
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