Regret, melancholy, walling oneself up alive, Breaking down the wall, Blowing that spark into a fire, Doing kendo in the dark. We make choices We make sacrifices We love deeply and intensely We seek perfection and only at the last moment Do we realize a thing was perfect all the time. Living life by carefully dipped measures Afraid to move to take chances to open up again. But being brave enough to let the wind of change Turn that last spark in us into a conflagration. Turning up the MP3 full blast Springsteen in all his rampant pounding wailing. Dancing in the moonlight, Doing kendo in the dark. Lifting my shinai to the moon And laughing aloud. I remember when I taught my love how to dance How to rhumba to jive to hustle How to move his hips and shake his butt He taught me how to do kendo in the dark. Now I’m learning again. I’m not bricking up that wall again. I’m piling up perfect cherry blossoms In all the cracks of my days. Decadent display of pink and white. I’m driving too fast and listening To Springsteen too loud. (Oops girl, slow down – that county mountie Looked too hard at you whizzing past!) <huge grin> I’m not measuring the moonlight By coffee spoons. I’m bathing in it and being profligate. No regrets, no retreat, no surrender. I’m starting a fire.
I’m relighting passion I’m thinking of love And doing kendo in the dark.
kanzen sakura 