“How many many things
they call to mind –
these cherry blossoms.” (Basho)
Cherry blossoms, fragile beauty in a cloud of palest pink, fall one by one and then in a flurry like a spring snow. Exquisite transience, though who could bear to live forever in that ecstasy of splendor? Mortals were not made to contain such extravagance. We live in moments of fulfillment like: the joy of childbirth, the first flame of passion, a child’s wedding, and a soldier’s homecoming. Otherwise we’d burn to a cinder of fallen star.
all we can endure