One early spring morning in Kyoto, I stroll along an oft-used pathway
The grandeur of cherry blossoms looming over me from either side,
With streams of sunlight emanating through their frosty branches
Permeating across this crumpled hair to my fevered brow;
My hands are deeply embedded within the pockets of an old jacket,
And the chilly air welcoming the warm breath trailing through my scarf,
It was once said that this path was named the Philosopher's Trail;
And to think of how quaint was such a name,
For one who perhaps walks this journey in search of his soul;
And so I continue along this arduous trek,
Pink petals weaving a portrait in the air around me,
Their fragrant scent filling my senses;
And as one gently drifts on my shoulder,
It covets me with the richness of its colours;
Hence I lift you into my hands,
Feeling the soft texture of your youthful perfection;
And to what pleasure do I owe thee, I ask;
To which you spiral alongside my hands until you glide away,
Your enticing grace hypnotizing my spirit;
So I realize the purpose of your arrival,
Was to embrace me with your exquisite beauty;
And enlighten me with the fact that
Once in a while fate will cross our paths,
Before we each continue along our separate voyages;
Perhaps the wind will guide us towards the same destination,
Or perhaps our acquaintance was just brief and pleasant;
But regardless of whichever outcome destiny may proclaim,
At this moment your existence occupies the fullness of my mind,
And the prints of my hands are imbued upon your powdery petal,
And for the both of us, it is the only meaningful importance
That flourishes within the deepest moments of our lives
