Fate shall take us up into the air

Fate shall take us up into the air

Fine, spring, blossoming day with every

bit of clean twigs spiralling up into the air

begging the Goddesses for warmth, air,

hope

and in this scene, I, too, tried to fly up into

the cherry-filled, scented particles that

define my love for this season. Enclosed in darkness,

I see not myself being lifted into the air, and something

drags me onto the ground, so firmly;

but for I am not romantic, or sentimental, I

cannot figure out what the weight is

anchoring me back onto the ground. Afraid,

I sense more traces of unidentifiable fragrances

from an otherwise pleasant scenery outside the darkness;

I then look around me, and suddenly

things prevail; I see twigs coming to life;

thickening into branches; preparing itself for the days to come;

growing, maturing, playing with the Fates

as if an action to disobey

“Naughty, naughty,” they would say

and cease them from growing. They do not care.

        Now I see why the blackness remains around.

        I just need to play along with the game,

        That lasts till the perennial border of life, that which

        takes us to the end.

        And that shall take us up into the air, where things matter.