Monday, December 10, 2012

this temple

i rose with a sense

my senses
told me stories
one after the other

she was
she wasn't

she had slept in my arms
she had slept outside

there was no telling
there were no words

the measured shuffle
of satin slippers on ricepaper

the sudden flutter
of birds

a whispered scent
of cherry blossom

a solemn 
morning sun
colouring the mist

i was entirely
of myself

and in this moment
i was
entirely contained
in everything else

ito yuhan      kiyomizu temple in spring


R. Burnett Baker said...

Even the title, with this poem, is multi-layered. Beautiful.

steven said...

thankyou rick . . . . steven