Wind marches away
Trees grow older and older
Waiting for sunshine

butterflies flutter -
reach for the nectar of life;
winds change direction.

We were born in the forest,
Living in the shadows,
Clinging to our loved ones
In the dark, under the trees.
Life was good then,
We had picked fruit from branches
And swung on them for joy.
And there was no greed
Or jealousy.
Over millions of years,
We lived in harmony,
Until the forest changed;
The garden shriveled and
Faded away as we watched.
Our lives were rearranged.
Some among us ventured out.
Giving in to our sin: curiosity.
We turned the grasslands
into pavement and stone
And we endured pain to walk
Down in the street, surrounded
by canyons of concrete and steel.
The powerful gather now
and hoard what was once shared.
Hors d’oeuvres are served,
Placating the hunger of the omnipotent,
that is never stated;
They will keep taking from us
As long as we allow it.
Even as they wallow in wealth,
They plot to plunder riches
and destroy the world,
scraping the land
and scouring the sea.
But one day, some loner, a rebel
May emerge from the shadows,
Dark-clad, filled with inchoate rage.
He will find like-minded souls
Who use the new machinations
To topple the oligarchs,
Empty their accounts
And give them to the world.
Chaos may follow,
But out of it a new humanity
Might arise.

Like a sailor’s warning, a red sky in morning,
Ocean swell rolls like thunder from blue to black

The ebb and flow of the crashing tides plead,
“Turn the heat down. We have been trying to put out the flames for so long”.

How long did the fire have to burn
That not even the cries of Mother Earth could tame it?

Only the void of the moon
And the pain from the sun
Misaligned halo in harmony
Could save us from this tribulation

This morning, I come to my table once more,
A cup of coffee gently steams,
Warming hands that feel weighted down
Again and again, I type my goodbye,
But I always delete it, hoping there’s still something else I can do.

You, who have filled my days until now,
Like mornings begun with easy conversations,
And afternoons spent lost in tasks, one after another—
Today, it feels different, as the countdown begins.

The longer I sit, the more I realize this chair no longer fits me
I trace the quiet walls, so familiar with laughter, complaints, and tireless effort
Each corner here has its own story.

Though my heart is still full, I know I must leave
Tomorrow, someone else will sit here, bringing even bigger dreams
For now, I leave my memories in this last sip of coffee,
Heading to the door that’s always greeted me each morning,
Now releasing me gently, like a Momiji branch lets go of its leaves around the building in autumn.

The embers fade
from passing year
and turn to ash,
then disappear.

A span of time
that fades to black
now melts into
earth’s deepest cracks.

From murky fog
and blackest night
emerge first shoots
of new year bright.

Now from grey ash
of burnt-out past
the shoots are fed
’til new dawn’s flash.

At year’s knife edge
the night is long,
obsidian blade
cuts open new dawn.

The clock’s hands turn
and grasp the knife
to slice open the box
of a new year’s life.

And from the cut
the knife just made
comes ray of light
that glints on blade.

What this beam will bring?
I do not know.
But I’ll take some hope
and let light flow.

—

Photo here:
https://bsky.app/profile/jackgroundhog.bsky.social/post/3lem2baz3ks25