Fierce frost freezes tears Discord reaps only stress As baleful blizzard nears
Condensing spring-dew clouds form Lightning racing Lacing the summer storm
With autumns leaves fall our dreams Drowned silent Deep in icy cold streams
Blossoms wilt as the winter sky fades Denied warmth Given too much shade
Life will show us incredible beauty and replace it with indescribable sadness. Impermanence is the only permanence. It is this transience itself that makes all of our experiences so vitally important, so beautiful.
Mono no aware describes both an appreciation of this beauty and a gentle sadness at the ephemeral nature of existence. It is generally regarded as nearly impossible to translate, but I have done my best lol. :p
I wrote this as an homage to a very important person/relationship. I have struggled most of my life to overcome the loss of this person's friendship, and this concept has helped me begin to view this in a way that I can actually process.
I attempted to capture the beauty, love, strife, and sadness of this experience in a 'mono no aware' style with senryus for this reason.
I rewrote this one a bit so I am shamelessly reposting. ;)
I am the observed A specific configuration of particles Manifesting for a short moment in time A seemingly stable consciousness Flowing within a volatile river of all
An ever changing experience of pleasure of fear of joy of pain contentment... until
I am the observed A specific configuration of particles Manifesting for a short moment in time A seemingly stable consciousness Flowing with in a volatile river of all
We are the observed Specific configurations of particles Manifesting for a short moment in time Seemingly stable consciousness's Flowing with in a volatile river of all
I am the observed
We are a river
Based on some thoughts as I drifted off to sleep, pondering the impermanence of life and the how its our choice to package as much or as little into this "blink of an eye " existence. More importantly that we roll with the punches and appreciate each second.
I hate always having to be the girl who got away, there’s power, but power only fuels ego. I’m never just the right amount, I’m always too late, or too fleeing. But as I spend my days cold and blue, the heartbreaks of the past have a stain of regret on their day, but loneliness shadow casts its spell on mine.
The light that you were on my days, was like the July sun, the heat grabs you, and wraps it’s warm rays around your shoulders. But now, it’s covered, and it’s late summer. You’re cold, and distant.
I want all my idols to be false All my effects the placebo kind All my monuments temporary My loves the fleeting type Cause I’ve got bones of gold And I bend easy Impermanently made Permanently desiring Permanence fearing So make all my monuments temporary All my loves the fleeting type
I find myself loving things that won't last, to save myself from having to end them. So here's a little ode, to craving but fearing impermanence
Why does it take long to write a poem? are months consumed into few fleeting feelings? a poem is severed. Of feelings that need to be let go of, a delusion of a listen, poem doesn’t listen, what does it do? An appearance for no purpose, but to be outside is like braving the wind to tell the wind you have braved it, is this a poem? None of us know yet. Mounting feelings in an abandon, a poem deceives, and leaves them for dead, for forgetfulness is eternal, and the rest rot in several lifetimes, but the burden? Unburden, eventually? The poem is ******, Can we let go of it at all? It persists. We let them know we were there, to come face to face with selves of us, that we have avoided, does the poem really look out for you? And asks, pretending you know? Do we need no end? We are here to while away time and tell them we whiled the time away.