In The Land of The Rising Sun

Only that day dawns to which we are awake. There is more day to dawn. The sun is but a morning star. - Thoreau

when this life is done

and the trees no longer breathe

bury me deeply 'tween memories of lush, rolling hills

where faith clutches and truth and honor live on

beside a stll, gentle, persistent ocean

where yesterday struggles to remember and tomorrow yearns not to forget

where sky was born

behind ancient stone walls

where pink pagodas frame a straight view

where mournful strings weep for eternity

gasping for air with raised shoulders

in the land of the rising sun

Author's Note

"As for your high towers and monuments, there was a crazy fellow once in this town who undertook to dig through to China, and he got so far that, as he said, he heard the Chinese pots and kettles rattle; but I think that I shall not go out of my way to admire the hole which he made". - Thoreau

Reviews

[RomaJ]

This poem feels like walking through a dreamscape where memory and time fold into one another. The hills, oceans, and pink pagodas become more than places.

They are vessels of remembrance, longing, and quiet reverence.

To be buried there would be beautiful, though I’d hope to be alive to truly experience the beauty and wonder of the place. A truly luminous journey in words

[Pete]

wow, cool thoughts spot on. thanks for taking a sip and sharing roma. appreciated.

[Einstein Noodle]

seems you are heavy on your mind, my friend. for me ... i expect that when i stop my breathing .. those trees will still sink roots and make O2 for all those i leave... your poem pulls me to noble calling ... truth, honesty, courageous in character .. to stand in truth when it is not convenient nor comfortable ... true hearts .. i, for one, do long for that in me sir! luv on ya ... deep inspiring poem, says i!
E.

[Pete]

wow. what a great review. i guess nobility and taking the low road are their own rewards!

[Einstein Noodle]

:) .................. perhaps ... every time, big time