Nature Philosophy Poems

Ikigai: Petals in Stillness

Spring — Passion

Kintsugi dawn—
white plum scents night air
tea rises in stillness.

Cranes cross pale sky;
child laughter drifts on moss.
A garden remembers.

Summer — Vocation

Tatami breathes—
cicada shells cling
reborn softly.

Koi flicker below
ripples fade in quiet hands.
Evening thunder calls—

incense drifts
forms bow.

Autumn — Mission

Fox lanterns kindle
shoji float through silver mist—
ancestral spirits stir.

Stray dog nestles
by the gate;
even strays seek warmth.

Tea vapor
recalls morning.

Winter

Wisdom

The bloom starts no repentance,
it is not afraid of the slip just yet.
each gentle wind is a sigh from the sky.
be scented now, then learn to die.
It is the fleeting we become.
in how we glow before we've gone.

The Mentor

"The more in science we advance,
The more do we grow," you say;
Still, Nature's love, abundance
Forgive us all in every way.

She lessons us to endure
Just like the green grasses do;
We, humans, can't all ensure;
We fail to remain pure and true.

Time's supposed to take all away;
She teaches all how to accept;
Rise and fall, the night and the

Iron Veil

Truth be told, or is it so,
Is strength bronze or tin?
Forever mystery lies so,
In this transcended kin.

Beneath the rust, a fragile heart,
Iron weeps, its strength apart.
A veil of secrets, shadows loom,
Where truth’s enigma finds its tomb.

In fragile echoes, whispers call,
Uncertainty befalls, thoughts of chanciness.
As ready minds begin to fall,
A second thought of unsureness.

Though some say

Strength Does Not Always Roar

Fragility is quite a strength
just as the crucial bumblebees’ breath
Perhaps not only titularly
gentleness is stronger than severity . . .

Channeling Emily Dickinson : To be a feather in a holocaust
– hope, sewn in the soul, sings the song needed most

A minor thought on regeneration : To regrow the leg the mantis lost
– a marvel on

Fulcrum Of A Rose

Within the secret sacred shrines of any rose
Dwells a well filled with fountains of a unique scent.
This scent pervades the florescence as each bloom glows.
Though the rose may fade, its scent endures without end.

The fragrance is not on her peripheral skin.
This aroma arises from her spotlessness.
Facing each thick and thin of the seasonal spin
The fragrance

Time Marches On

Time marches on, through dusk and dawn.
Time marches on, through silence and song.

Time marches on, unmoved by pleasure and pain.
Time marches on, unmoved by grief and glory.

Time marches on, past valor and vanity.
Time marches on, past fame and fall.

Time marches on, beyond triumph and tragedy.
Time marches on, beyond fortune and failure.

Time marches on, above wealth

Winding Way I

Black crow flying 
Low stalling
Wise too in caution taking
Know’s a fool would not last as long.

Winding way I calls him
Not one to fly straight lines
Curious, attention-deficited
Following ‘what’s that’, as a worthy lifeline.

Fence siting… I know not
For staying is not his calling card
God only knows all he’s truly seen
A loner looking… perhaps returning tomorrow.

I’ll wait and

Humanity

"Love is the strongest force in the universe."
Can this statement be proven true?
If I were to begin a search
And write down a hypothesis
What parameters should I observe?
Can love be seen under a microscope?
Can its depths be plumbed by a rope?
Can its mass be balanced on a scale,
Or its weight detected by a spring?
If only I

The Gravity of Looking Up

To cross the void,
where the wind hums danger
and the shadows stretch their claws,
they say: Don’t look down.

Fix your eyes forward,
they urge—on the trembling ropes,
on the breath that burns steady,
on the sky, endless and uncaring,
as if the weight of you
could vanish into air.

But my heart fights it,
tethered to the jagged unknown,
its rhythm echoes the pull,
dragging my

In the Cycle of Existence

We rise from shadowed whispers,
born in the trembling breath of chaos.
Fingers claw at the edges of beginnings,
hungry for meaning,
yet startled by the weight of being.

Time spins its web—
messy, relentless, achingly beautiful.
We are tethered and untamed,
dancing to a melody
that breaks and mends us all at once.

Love finds us,
not gentle, but honest,
shaking the dust from our ribs,
reminding

Sound of one hand clapping

the pale moon hovers

over the village at sunrise.

The Space Between Stars

Notwithstanding, our limited vision has potential. 
For once our eyes are opened, it's impossible to close them again. 
Whether we look through a microscope for knowledge existential, 
Or through a telescope for the understanding of things alien. 

We are surrounded by living things terrestrial and celestial.
The magnitude is equal in a single drop of water,

The twilight of the morning

The holes of the lace curtain,
Having closed the winter windows.
Life shimmers like so coveted blueberries.
So many pieces of obscurity.
The tops of the trees are spinning in the wind,
In a semicircle, back and forth,
Like whipping up the raw material for a biscuit.
Or maybe they're wringing their necks?
The wind has thrown the rumble of trains
Into a soundproof

Untitled

***
It's almost one o'clock 
In the morning.
Summer is in full swing.
The full moon has stopped being red,
And it launches the light with thin plates ,
through the not fully drawn curtains.
Someone is sonorously stirring the drink in the cup with a spoon.
The darkness, diluted with whitewash,
Presses its cheek to the gentle sound.

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