Timeless -Part 3-
TIMELESS
-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3-
- [Powdered snow, if you paled me white to the heart
Can you share our loneliness?]-
The snow falls faster than usual this winter, and before he knows it, the town is already covered by nothing but white. He watches from his window the powdered snow falling, it never seems to stop since the beginning of winter until now, and he glances at the calendar hanging across the room, it is already February.
There is a knock at the window and he turns around, an ayakashi is there, peering inside. Struggling with the heavy blanket he pushes it away from him and walks, albeit slowly towards the window, opening it just enough for them to talk, the cold wind freezes him almost instantly.
“Sorry for the disturbance, Jungsu-shii.”
The ayakashi is wearing a mask, a usual for their kind, with long black hair let loose on the back. He knows they never met before but he does not ask on how it knows his name; apparently most ayakashi knows him well in this town, well enough for his liking.
“It’s fine. What is it?”
He almost winced on how his voice sounded, hoarse and low.
“The snow will let out tonight, and the wind will stop, for tonight.”
He raises a brow at that; does not quite get what is it the ayakashi wants to tell him.
“The tree is calling.”
His heart stills for a moment.
“We think that it is you it is calling.”
He clenched his fist, regret and anger seeps in.
“You do not know that.”
The ayakashi shakes its head, softly.
“The name it called is Jungsu.”
His eyes widen at that.
“There is no mistaking it.”
The ayakashi lifts the head, and although he cannot see the eyes, he knows he is being stared at. The wind is no longer chilling him, and for a moment there is nothing but silence, he cannot even hear his own heartbeat anymore. He closes his eyes, focusing, and indeed, brought by the wind, softly, and slowly, is a name, his own.
“Jungsu.”
He does not even realized that he has been crying until he feel a soft, faint brush on the cheek, the ayakashi’s hand extended towards him.
“We like the tree, and the person by it, but we like you too.”
He can almost see a smile by the mask.
“You should go, and see them, tonight.”
He found himself nodding, and the ayakashi takes its leave. He closes the window, and hugs himself on the knees; his tears feel warm against the skin.
True to the ayakashi’s words, the snow stops falling later that night, and the wind is gone, too. He waited until midnight before slowly slipping out of the house, dragging his heavy body forward. Inside his sleeves is the diary, he does not plan on revealing that he remembers, no. He cannot bear the thought of facing the consequences. Not after he ran and turns his back on the person last spring.
It may be justified for he does not remember yet, that time, but he cannot forgive himself just yet. It has been too long, and he does not know what going there will bring to the situation, but for some reason he feels like he can do this, and he, being intuitive as he is, decided to just go with it.
The walk feels shorter now that he has a lot in his mind, for before he knows it he is already at the foot of the cliff. And even with the snow, he can found the right path and climb up; the feeling of déjà vu is no more a stranger to him.
He can feel his eyes brimming with tears once the tree comes to a full view, but he brushes it off as his tired body’s fault, it has been too long since he last walk this far after all, he reasons. He can almost hear his heart screaming ‘liar!’ at him though, resulting in him chuckling to himself a bit.
And that may be a good thing to do, for when he hear the same voice, calling him out, the same eyes staring at him, and the same face standing in front of him, he manages to keep himself together.
And he catches himself smiling, as he walks closer.
It might be because he feels calm; it might be because he knows this is the best; he had not want to admit it before, it might be because they are comfortable, and his heart is so light he barely contain himself, as if nothing had happened, as if centuries had not passed, as if, nothing is ever wrong at the first place, that he manages to says it, after a long random chatter that does not really make sense, but to him, is important enough, because he had missed this.
“I’m sorry, for everything.”
He had meant it, from the very beginning.
“I want you to be free.”
Kibum simply smiles, the sweet smile of his, and nods.
“I know.”
He hands him the diary, and prepare to leave, the wind is blowing again, and the first drop of snow hits his shoulder when he feels rough hands on the arm. He had known from the start that Kibum is no longer human, but even when he is pulled for an awkward hug, he feels warm, and he believes that he does not imagine it in his head.
He also knows that he does not imagine the soft hands on the back, for when he pulled back, Kibum is human enough in his eyes, just like he was years ago.
It hits him then that his wish had come true.
He smiles, so wide, it breaks his face and makes him cry.
He had gone back home with a very tired body, Kibum reasoned because he has used his power more than usual, to his confusion, but accepts the explanation anyways, and passed out before his head hit the pillow.
He wakes up to find himself at the hospital, and two weeks has passed since then. The family worried sick and the doctors out for explanation, but he assures them that he is fine, and leaves the ward the very next day.
Along the way back, though, he cannot ignore the feeling that he has forgotten something, and it snaps inside his head when he sees the sun shining brightly and the steps of spring coming.
That night, before he left, Kibum had whispered at him.
“You and I, we were one. And I swore I’d stay forever.”
In soft, thin voice.
“But they say all good things come to an end.”
He announced the end.
“Oh so if you believe, say a prayer for me.”
And he smiles, so bright, his heart breaks.
- [Powdered snow, this heart that has transcended time is faltering
And yet, I want to continue to protect you]-
In all the passing of time, he had forgotten, and remembered, repeating the same cycle over and over again. And throughout the whole moment the tree is there, always, watching.
Kibum had wished, for this to end, he had wished from the beginning, for him to be free. He knows Jungsu deserved that, deserved it the most, even when the man himself may not know it.
He was cursed to die, long time ago, at the beginning, before he met Jungsu, who is kind to him, who is strong enough that the curse is already gone before he knew it, when all they do is befriend one another. He owes the man much; he owes him his whole life. That he is willing to accept anything, so that the person may be free.
Free from the burden of being different, and simply be happy.
He does not mind waiting this whole time, he had promised him before, when the tree is still nothing but bare and dying, he had promised him, when yet another people hurt him and scarred the fragile heart inside.
“I’ll be here, with you, always, until the day when nothing can hurt you anymore.”
It had been a long time coming, but it is here now.
“No matter how long it takes, I’ll be waiting for that day.”
He had promised, and he had kept it.
He did.
- [Where did you go, leaving me here, I do not know
You left me over there to the place no one knows
I want to leave this behind]-
He watches as the whole town, including his family goes to an uproar on the news. It is still quite cold, and there is still a faint trace of snow melts away on the road, yet it does not stop the crowd from moving towards the sea, to where the cliff with the cherry blossom is.
Or rather, was.
It was raining heavily the past few days, one of the worst storms in the history of the town, and as impossible as it be, for the lack of better word, considering the history of the place and all, the cliff crumbles down, succumbed to the nature and buried into the sea.
Bringing down the legendary cherry blossom tree with it, gone, disappear.
At least, scientifically, that is the most acceptable explanation for the situation.
He stands there, from his usual spot every time he is here by the beach, leaning against the abandoned old hut under the now bare shady tree as usual. And indeed, even from a far, the view is different, the part where the cliff was, extended towards the sea is chipped off, and the tree is nowhere in sight anymore.
He can still see it though; the image had been burned inside his mind for centuries after all, the leaves flutters by the wind, the flower petals fly away, dancing by the wind.
Even when he knows it is just inside his head, he can still see it, so clearly.
A hand grasped his, and he snaps from his daydream, looking down to see a group of kids staring intently at him, he recognized them as the ones that helped him before, chuckled when one of them told him to go back if he wants to sleep, even go as far as scolding him for being absent minded, which he had a hard time denying.
He sends them away with a thank you and a sheepish smile, and makes his way to see the old man by the shop, who seems as healthy as ever, to his relief, at the bench in front of the shop, as usual. The man smiles and beckons him over, and points to the empty space beside him, which he nods and accepts the sit with a thank you.
He sense a somewhat déjà vu, sitting here like this, but then he knows it is different, from the way the man stares at him, knowingly.
“So you found your answer, I assume?”
He smiles softly, and nods. He had been here a lot of times before, and the oldest man in town is no stranger to him, still it never fails to surprise him how good the man is in reading him, that sometimes he cannot help but wonder how much of himself has the man discovered, and the thought is somewhat disturbing, to say the least.
He had come here before, when he was still following his guts and instincts blindly
-not that he has stop doing so, just that he has make some effort to actually think and stop being so naïve- and found himself lost with the overwhelming feelings and thoughts he felt like he is going to burst, and come for advice, which until today, is still the best decision he ever made so far, in his opinion.
He had come with the image of the dream in his mind, the awkward, bare tree, the person in black with pale skin, the other him and the story of the legend in his mind. He had come hoping for explanation, even when he found it hard to explain himself, and settles with rhetorical questions, which may or may not helping, he does not know, at that time, still he goes for it anyway.
He had forgotten the questions, it does not leave an impact on him much, but he remembers the soft smile grazing the features of the wise man, and how the dark eyes softens in a way he cannot think it could as the words fly about, and tucked inside him.
“Sometimes there are things that happened because it has to happened, even when it hurts people, even when it defies all the logic in the world, because there is a meaning to it, and to understand the meaning may be impossible to everyone, but if we can make an effort to do so…”
He can never forget the look, the way the man stares at him right in the eyes.
“…that in itself has already give it a meaning, don’t you think so?”
He had agreed that time, and he still is.
“I am sure that the tree is happy, Jungsu-shii.”
Maybe this is the best after all, and looking back, it is almost like a sign that everything ends. For him to retain the face, and holds the same name, Jungsu, it is like going back that time, where everything begins, to put an end to it.
He remembered the soft smile of the person, and he knows that Kibum is always a wise person, he must have foreseen this somehow, he must be intended for him to be free, from the very beginning, that must be why he never regrets caught the epidemic, and grateful, for it.
He found the meaning, and while he cannot say for sure that he is right, he knows that it is not of importance anymore. Not when he can finally come to terms with it, after all this time.
He smiles, holding his head high, and stares at the blue sky.
He is letting go.
It does not stop a tear from falling down, though.
- [Powdered snow, if you paled me white to the heart
You would wrap around our loneliness and send it back into the sky]-
He wakes up to the sound of hushed whisper and soft knocking on the window, which is getting louder and faster by each passing second, indicating the lack of patience by whoever intends to call him. He rubs his sleepy eyes and peeks at the window, where a man is standing, clad in traditional clothing and for some reason looks exactly like Kibum, except that while the person is all black, this man is all white, and he knows better than to ignore him, so he opens the window, slowly, and trying hard to compose himself.
“Pardon the intrusion, but I came delivering a will, for you.”
He simply nods, though he can feel his heart stricken, pounding softly.
“I shall receive it, then.”
The man smile softly as he takes the book, the very one he left to Kibum before.
“Thank you.”
He nods, and somehow, he cannot help himself but ask.
“You…you are the tree, right?”
The man simply nods.
“And the person- Kibum-shii is your shadow all along, isn’t it?”
The man looks down, avoiding his gaze.
“He became my shadow.”
There is a crack in the whispered voice, soft, but still there.
“I wished that I can live, and bloom.”
The clothes flutter about, like leaves.
“We were foolish, aren’t we?”
The wind blows and the end of the sleeves torn into flowers, fly away.
“He knows, from the start, who you really are.”
He can feel his eyes widen at that.
“The time you were up by the cliff, that spring, he already knew.”
The man smiles, softly.
“For coming and meet him, after all this time, thank you.”
He watches as the man dissipates and dissolves, the flowers flew to the sky.
Clutching the book, he opens it slowly, and notices the small flower peak out from the back pages. Trembling, his fingers flip it open with ease, and there is a writing that was not there before.
He can see this coming, really. And he, of all people, should be glad, but still, this long feeling; it has been with him for so long already.
“Jungsu-shii...”
No matter how much time passes, still, it hurts all the same.
“…thank you, for everything…”
It hurts, so much.
“…and…”
That he cannot help but cry.
- [The season in which the powdered snow dances always passes by
Even if I’m lost in a crowd I can see the same sky
Even though I'm chilled as if I'm being blown by the wind]-
There was a cherry blossom tree at the top of the cliff by the sea. The tree was said to be the largest tree in the town, and the age of the tree might be even older than the town itself, which has been around since more than 200 years ago. To see the tree, people usually went down the beach, and if the day was clear and not foggy at the cliff, the tree was visible for the entire world to see; the big, strong trunk, long branches with leaves fluttered by, and the blooming pink flowers whose petals falls down every so often, swept by the wind. The scenery was gorgeous, magnificent even; regardless of from what angle do you see it. The tree had always been the symbol of the town and it is likely to stay that way. It is both admired and feared by the townspeople after all.
For the tree, since one can remember, never seemed to stop blooming its flower.
They said that it was timeless, really.
Yet the past is fleeting.
Feelings are fleeting.
Like the memories in quiet cold decay.
The last of the powdered snow leaves no acquaintance.
Except for maybe, just maybe, a soft, whispered farewell.
“…goodbye.”
*******
Will the moon understand my loneliness?
Wonder if the stars understand my scars
Buried in affliction, I sing this song
Graved in loneliness; I call out your name
-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3-
- [Powdered snow, if you paled me white to the heart
Can you share our loneliness?]-
The snow falls faster than usual this winter, and before he knows it, the town is already covered by nothing but white. He watches from his window the powdered snow falling, it never seems to stop since the beginning of winter until now, and he glances at the calendar hanging across the room, it is already February.
There is a knock at the window and he turns around, an ayakashi is there, peering inside. Struggling with the heavy blanket he pushes it away from him and walks, albeit slowly towards the window, opening it just enough for them to talk, the cold wind freezes him almost instantly.
“Sorry for the disturbance, Jungsu-shii.”
The ayakashi is wearing a mask, a usual for their kind, with long black hair let loose on the back. He knows they never met before but he does not ask on how it knows his name; apparently most ayakashi knows him well in this town, well enough for his liking.
“It’s fine. What is it?”
He almost winced on how his voice sounded, hoarse and low.
“The snow will let out tonight, and the wind will stop, for tonight.”
He raises a brow at that; does not quite get what is it the ayakashi wants to tell him.
“The tree is calling.”
His heart stills for a moment.
“We think that it is you it is calling.”
He clenched his fist, regret and anger seeps in.
“You do not know that.”
The ayakashi shakes its head, softly.
“The name it called is Jungsu.”
His eyes widen at that.
“There is no mistaking it.”
The ayakashi lifts the head, and although he cannot see the eyes, he knows he is being stared at. The wind is no longer chilling him, and for a moment there is nothing but silence, he cannot even hear his own heartbeat anymore. He closes his eyes, focusing, and indeed, brought by the wind, softly, and slowly, is a name, his own.
“Jungsu.”
He does not even realized that he has been crying until he feel a soft, faint brush on the cheek, the ayakashi’s hand extended towards him.
“We like the tree, and the person by it, but we like you too.”
He can almost see a smile by the mask.
“You should go, and see them, tonight.”
He found himself nodding, and the ayakashi takes its leave. He closes the window, and hugs himself on the knees; his tears feel warm against the skin.
True to the ayakashi’s words, the snow stops falling later that night, and the wind is gone, too. He waited until midnight before slowly slipping out of the house, dragging his heavy body forward. Inside his sleeves is the diary, he does not plan on revealing that he remembers, no. He cannot bear the thought of facing the consequences. Not after he ran and turns his back on the person last spring.
It may be justified for he does not remember yet, that time, but he cannot forgive himself just yet. It has been too long, and he does not know what going there will bring to the situation, but for some reason he feels like he can do this, and he, being intuitive as he is, decided to just go with it.
The walk feels shorter now that he has a lot in his mind, for before he knows it he is already at the foot of the cliff. And even with the snow, he can found the right path and climb up; the feeling of déjà vu is no more a stranger to him.
He can feel his eyes brimming with tears once the tree comes to a full view, but he brushes it off as his tired body’s fault, it has been too long since he last walk this far after all, he reasons. He can almost hear his heart screaming ‘liar!’ at him though, resulting in him chuckling to himself a bit.
And that may be a good thing to do, for when he hear the same voice, calling him out, the same eyes staring at him, and the same face standing in front of him, he manages to keep himself together.
And he catches himself smiling, as he walks closer.
It might be because he feels calm; it might be because he knows this is the best; he had not want to admit it before, it might be because they are comfortable, and his heart is so light he barely contain himself, as if nothing had happened, as if centuries had not passed, as if, nothing is ever wrong at the first place, that he manages to says it, after a long random chatter that does not really make sense, but to him, is important enough, because he had missed this.
“I’m sorry, for everything.”
He had meant it, from the very beginning.
“I want you to be free.”
Kibum simply smiles, the sweet smile of his, and nods.
“I know.”
He hands him the diary, and prepare to leave, the wind is blowing again, and the first drop of snow hits his shoulder when he feels rough hands on the arm. He had known from the start that Kibum is no longer human, but even when he is pulled for an awkward hug, he feels warm, and he believes that he does not imagine it in his head.
He also knows that he does not imagine the soft hands on the back, for when he pulled back, Kibum is human enough in his eyes, just like he was years ago.
It hits him then that his wish had come true.
He smiles, so wide, it breaks his face and makes him cry.
He had gone back home with a very tired body, Kibum reasoned because he has used his power more than usual, to his confusion, but accepts the explanation anyways, and passed out before his head hit the pillow.
He wakes up to find himself at the hospital, and two weeks has passed since then. The family worried sick and the doctors out for explanation, but he assures them that he is fine, and leaves the ward the very next day.
Along the way back, though, he cannot ignore the feeling that he has forgotten something, and it snaps inside his head when he sees the sun shining brightly and the steps of spring coming.
That night, before he left, Kibum had whispered at him.
“You and I, we were one. And I swore I’d stay forever.”
In soft, thin voice.
“But they say all good things come to an end.”
He announced the end.
“Oh so if you believe, say a prayer for me.”
And he smiles, so bright, his heart breaks.
- [Powdered snow, this heart that has transcended time is faltering
And yet, I want to continue to protect you]-
In all the passing of time, he had forgotten, and remembered, repeating the same cycle over and over again. And throughout the whole moment the tree is there, always, watching.
Kibum had wished, for this to end, he had wished from the beginning, for him to be free. He knows Jungsu deserved that, deserved it the most, even when the man himself may not know it.
He was cursed to die, long time ago, at the beginning, before he met Jungsu, who is kind to him, who is strong enough that the curse is already gone before he knew it, when all they do is befriend one another. He owes the man much; he owes him his whole life. That he is willing to accept anything, so that the person may be free.
Free from the burden of being different, and simply be happy.
He does not mind waiting this whole time, he had promised him before, when the tree is still nothing but bare and dying, he had promised him, when yet another people hurt him and scarred the fragile heart inside.
“I’ll be here, with you, always, until the day when nothing can hurt you anymore.”
It had been a long time coming, but it is here now.
“No matter how long it takes, I’ll be waiting for that day.”
He had promised, and he had kept it.
He did.
- [Where did you go, leaving me here, I do not know
You left me over there to the place no one knows
I want to leave this behind]-
He watches as the whole town, including his family goes to an uproar on the news. It is still quite cold, and there is still a faint trace of snow melts away on the road, yet it does not stop the crowd from moving towards the sea, to where the cliff with the cherry blossom is.
Or rather, was.
It was raining heavily the past few days, one of the worst storms in the history of the town, and as impossible as it be, for the lack of better word, considering the history of the place and all, the cliff crumbles down, succumbed to the nature and buried into the sea.
Bringing down the legendary cherry blossom tree with it, gone, disappear.
At least, scientifically, that is the most acceptable explanation for the situation.
He stands there, from his usual spot every time he is here by the beach, leaning against the abandoned old hut under the now bare shady tree as usual. And indeed, even from a far, the view is different, the part where the cliff was, extended towards the sea is chipped off, and the tree is nowhere in sight anymore.
He can still see it though; the image had been burned inside his mind for centuries after all, the leaves flutters by the wind, the flower petals fly away, dancing by the wind.
Even when he knows it is just inside his head, he can still see it, so clearly.
A hand grasped his, and he snaps from his daydream, looking down to see a group of kids staring intently at him, he recognized them as the ones that helped him before, chuckled when one of them told him to go back if he wants to sleep, even go as far as scolding him for being absent minded, which he had a hard time denying.
He sends them away with a thank you and a sheepish smile, and makes his way to see the old man by the shop, who seems as healthy as ever, to his relief, at the bench in front of the shop, as usual. The man smiles and beckons him over, and points to the empty space beside him, which he nods and accepts the sit with a thank you.
He sense a somewhat déjà vu, sitting here like this, but then he knows it is different, from the way the man stares at him, knowingly.
“So you found your answer, I assume?”
He smiles softly, and nods. He had been here a lot of times before, and the oldest man in town is no stranger to him, still it never fails to surprise him how good the man is in reading him, that sometimes he cannot help but wonder how much of himself has the man discovered, and the thought is somewhat disturbing, to say the least.
He had come here before, when he was still following his guts and instincts blindly
-not that he has stop doing so, just that he has make some effort to actually think and stop being so naïve- and found himself lost with the overwhelming feelings and thoughts he felt like he is going to burst, and come for advice, which until today, is still the best decision he ever made so far, in his opinion.
He had come with the image of the dream in his mind, the awkward, bare tree, the person in black with pale skin, the other him and the story of the legend in his mind. He had come hoping for explanation, even when he found it hard to explain himself, and settles with rhetorical questions, which may or may not helping, he does not know, at that time, still he goes for it anyway.
He had forgotten the questions, it does not leave an impact on him much, but he remembers the soft smile grazing the features of the wise man, and how the dark eyes softens in a way he cannot think it could as the words fly about, and tucked inside him.
“Sometimes there are things that happened because it has to happened, even when it hurts people, even when it defies all the logic in the world, because there is a meaning to it, and to understand the meaning may be impossible to everyone, but if we can make an effort to do so…”
He can never forget the look, the way the man stares at him right in the eyes.
“…that in itself has already give it a meaning, don’t you think so?”
He had agreed that time, and he still is.
“I am sure that the tree is happy, Jungsu-shii.”
Maybe this is the best after all, and looking back, it is almost like a sign that everything ends. For him to retain the face, and holds the same name, Jungsu, it is like going back that time, where everything begins, to put an end to it.
He remembered the soft smile of the person, and he knows that Kibum is always a wise person, he must have foreseen this somehow, he must be intended for him to be free, from the very beginning, that must be why he never regrets caught the epidemic, and grateful, for it.
He found the meaning, and while he cannot say for sure that he is right, he knows that it is not of importance anymore. Not when he can finally come to terms with it, after all this time.
He smiles, holding his head high, and stares at the blue sky.
He is letting go.
It does not stop a tear from falling down, though.
- [Powdered snow, if you paled me white to the heart
You would wrap around our loneliness and send it back into the sky]-
He wakes up to the sound of hushed whisper and soft knocking on the window, which is getting louder and faster by each passing second, indicating the lack of patience by whoever intends to call him. He rubs his sleepy eyes and peeks at the window, where a man is standing, clad in traditional clothing and for some reason looks exactly like Kibum, except that while the person is all black, this man is all white, and he knows better than to ignore him, so he opens the window, slowly, and trying hard to compose himself.
“Pardon the intrusion, but I came delivering a will, for you.”
He simply nods, though he can feel his heart stricken, pounding softly.
“I shall receive it, then.”
The man smile softly as he takes the book, the very one he left to Kibum before.
“Thank you.”
He nods, and somehow, he cannot help himself but ask.
“You…you are the tree, right?”
The man simply nods.
“And the person- Kibum-shii is your shadow all along, isn’t it?”
The man looks down, avoiding his gaze.
“He became my shadow.”
There is a crack in the whispered voice, soft, but still there.
“I wished that I can live, and bloom.”
The clothes flutter about, like leaves.
“We were foolish, aren’t we?”
The wind blows and the end of the sleeves torn into flowers, fly away.
“He knows, from the start, who you really are.”
He can feel his eyes widen at that.
“The time you were up by the cliff, that spring, he already knew.”
The man smiles, softly.
“For coming and meet him, after all this time, thank you.”
He watches as the man dissipates and dissolves, the flowers flew to the sky.
Clutching the book, he opens it slowly, and notices the small flower peak out from the back pages. Trembling, his fingers flip it open with ease, and there is a writing that was not there before.
He can see this coming, really. And he, of all people, should be glad, but still, this long feeling; it has been with him for so long already.
“Jungsu-shii...”
No matter how much time passes, still, it hurts all the same.
“…thank you, for everything…”
It hurts, so much.
“…and…”
That he cannot help but cry.
- [The season in which the powdered snow dances always passes by
Even if I’m lost in a crowd I can see the same sky
Even though I'm chilled as if I'm being blown by the wind]-
There was a cherry blossom tree at the top of the cliff by the sea. The tree was said to be the largest tree in the town, and the age of the tree might be even older than the town itself, which has been around since more than 200 years ago. To see the tree, people usually went down the beach, and if the day was clear and not foggy at the cliff, the tree was visible for the entire world to see; the big, strong trunk, long branches with leaves fluttered by, and the blooming pink flowers whose petals falls down every so often, swept by the wind. The scenery was gorgeous, magnificent even; regardless of from what angle do you see it. The tree had always been the symbol of the town and it is likely to stay that way. It is both admired and feared by the townspeople after all.
For the tree, since one can remember, never seemed to stop blooming its flower.
They said that it was timeless, really.
Yet the past is fleeting.
Feelings are fleeting.
Like the memories in quiet cold decay.
The last of the powdered snow leaves no acquaintance.
Except for maybe, just maybe, a soft, whispered farewell.
“…goodbye.”
*******
Will the moon understand my loneliness?
Wonder if the stars understand my scars
Buried in affliction, I sing this song
Graved in loneliness; I call out your name