www.whyville.net May 11, 2015 Weekly Issue



moonphire
Guest Artist

Komorebi

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There are many phrases coined all over the world that breath life into the intangible, give names to things we haven't quite articulated in the English dictionary. For instance Japan's four letter equivalent for our way of saying sunlight shining through trees; "Komorebi", is a more elegantly strung together sensation not quite captured on the western side of the globe. In a word, it describes the feelings of ultimate serenity surrounding this phenomena, that momentary magic you're overcome with when you are awestruck and squinting under its rays. I feel it every single time, and I think it's my happiest place. For a moment, paracosm aligns with reality. My heart draws an opening like a bridge, a mouth, and eyes to the sky, reflecting the holy faces depicted in art as old as time, this, nature, is my closest connection to sacred, the closest to smite I've felt. I've been coming to this place for quite some time, it leads straight to the beach, and I've noted some thoughts upon my arrival.

Does it ever make you lonely not to be near water? If I could spend the rest of my life complacently still this is where I would want to be. I would decompose in this position, blissfully, if given the choice. And I have in my dreams, among the many of Armageddon this is where I've wound up. In fold out chairs at night, betwixt family rooted in the sand, we await what ever demise ascends over the horizon. I almost always wake up before then. Minutes turn into a couple of hours and my thoughts have come full circle, my mind skips like a record I recite the collective like a mantra. I'm still entertaining the idea of a stagnant life right here and now, as unpractical as I realize. I'm getting lost in liquid symphonies, the spiraling, pendulum swaying of it all, the ripples, it's got my attention deeper than most. How I'd care for the company of a silent appreciator, a stranger. To be heard through sight my bubbling cup of comfort overflows. It feels so real to be recognized, but for now I am just as content counting flowers along the way.

 

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