Feather

Light as a feather
Swift as a stream
Tender is the midsummer night
Brushing its wings of blessing
Unto the city of Tokyo

The grey tiles, grey pillars
Are they wailing in melancholy
Or bathing in bliss

Or cowering from their past
In the ever so soft
Ever so peaceful breeze?

Perhaps in the dawn of Armageddon
This is the piece
Of light
Free from consumers, routine and numbers
But all will have to wait for the sun
To command another march
Unto the city of Tokyo.

Japan, 2014