burn

the ashes of regret!

photo by author <Lakshmi Kanthan Muralikrishnan>

A blotch,
An evident spread
Of encumbrance;
I withdrew my brush,
Drawing out
A visible trail
Of cold breath -
Reeling back
Into memories
Of the fond autumn;
Raking the distant past
With fronds and bracts

Faded, fallen…
If I could be
Washed back
In the flow of time —
Shall I reclaim
That blotch of ink.
If I could be swayed
In the winds
Of Mount Fuji,
Shall I cherish
The dying cries
Of the inkstick!

If I were to,
Look back…
Into the fallen fall,
Shall I burn,
The red of Tatsuta river
In my eyes…
If I were to sigh,
So shall I
At the crimson dance
Of unruly gods!
If I were to die,
So shall I,
(Hold, O flow of Time!)
After I hear
The lonely stag’s cry!