Full Moon

Okay, before I get serious with work, or before I get buried in it, let me just post this poem. I have been holding this for several days already. I could not bring myself to post it - everytime I read it I find something lacking in it. And I would edit it everytime. So before the feelings that I've poured into this poem dissolve into a soup, please let me post it. Anyway, I dedicate this to my blog's avid reader - who is none other than 'me'. Who else do you think reads this blog with such diligence as me? Hahahaha....

This is what happens when you overdose on 'Il Postino/Pablo Neruda". Someone gave me an interesting term for this.... hmmm, what was it? Artistic masturbation.... or something close to that. I can't remember exactly (gomen ne)

Wait, I don't even have a proper title for this poem. I know this poem is nothing close to extraordinary, but as 'Mario' said poetry is for those who need it. And also, if I keep procrastinating I'll never be able to post this. So here,

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To See You

I want to see you.
This desire is persistent like a wound that would not stop bleeding.
It scatters on the bluest color of the sky,
until it breathes on every word and spills to the air.
And like a relentless wind in search of an unknown place,
I'm constantly in pursuit of you.

But I cannot see you,
I am a still full moon afraid to move
because beyond that horizon, over that fragile distance,
there you are in full radiance.
It's the light known only by a tree's roots
because they continue to grow –
farther to the core of the Earth.

But the desire is there,
to see you
under the ubiquitous sky.
It plays the melody that I cannot put into words.
It is, more than anything,
a wish, a prayer,
a child that I could not stop from being born.
and a tear that I cannot let to fall.

As long as the moon and sun rise and set inside my heart,
there will be no forgetting.
Your image appears in the crashing of the waves,
inside a coffee shop between the senseless chatter of people,
in the soft clicking sound of porcelain cups against saucers,
soothingly cold and clear,
warm as a stranger’s unguarded smile.
It pours as sudden as rain in the dead of night.

But I cannot see you.
This I know clearly.
The size of this desire is equal to my understanding of why it cannot be satisfied.
And my soul buried in this wonderful picture,
a still full moon afraid to lose sight of you.
It is not to separate from the black expanse of the night,
nor for its light to step into the vast blue sky.

But like the moon that cannot meet the sun,
I want to see you.

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**I don't know much about Nobuyuki Hirakura. I only know him because he made a few songs of Laruku into acoustic - and, may I add, he did a wonderful job. I was listening to his acoustic of 'Vivid Colors' when I was writing this poem so thought I should also add it here**