Disclaimer:
I do not own Bleach. Bleach is by Kubo Tite
"So much happens to us while we live in this world that we must voice the thoughts that are in our hearts, conveying them through the things we see and the things we hear. We hear the bush warbler singing in the flowers or the voice of the frogs that live in the water and know that among all living creatures there is not one that does not have its song."
- Preface to Kokinshū
The Last Spring
It started beating once again –
The pulse of the earth
It was spring's melody –
The birds' chorus and the wind's beat
The grasses' dance and the sakura's bloom
...
The Earth sprung up once more –
Alive and beautiful
This spring is magnificent and lovely
Beautiful yet –
...
The last winter was not white
Nor was it pure or silent
The faded winter was war
The last battlefield they shared
The last ground they both stood on
...
Forget the soft snow fall
And the pureness of the sight
For that winter was burdened by blood
Filled with clashing swords
...
Of broken promises and love
Of sorry's never spoken
Of touches not given
Of tears and goodbyes
Of fallen lovers and fallen soldiers
...
This war was more than this war
Waged for love of power and ambition
The warriors fought their own battles
Inside their souls and hearts
Their war waged for truth and love and vows
...
She wished to believe in the eternal circle
On cycles that goes forever
Like him coming and going, but returning always
For no matter how many times he leaves
He always comes in time to be her oxygen
...
And she breathes again
Like that fall, when he found her starving on the ground
Helpless and dying she was, but he came
He came and became her life line
...
Like the seasons
Summer, fall, winter, spring
It goes in cycle, on and on
Eventually summer ends and autumn comes
Just like him, and her, and them
...
She never thought it would be possible
But somehow it seems it is
The cycle could stop
He did not come back
...
He stared through his closed eyes
That strawberry blonde hair
Those shimmering icy-gray irises
That saddest smile
...
Nobody recognized them but he does
He does as they fade from his eyes
To be embossed like colorless pictures in his mind
He turns his back always, hoping that face will never fade from him
But every picture fades
...
It was his solace, his comfort
He knew she will never comprehend but she understands
She holds that power
Strength he could not muster himself, she gives it effortlessly
...
He thought as long as they exist, they will breathe each other
She was his spring –
The presence that brought forth color and music in his blood-ashen world
But as day fades to night, fall to winter
Spring goes away too
...
All lies they knew but maybe never have they admitted to their selves
All truths they knew but maybe never did they acknowledge
It is their life story – vague, confused and unknown
When she laughs, he can hear her pain
When he frowns, she can see his smile
...
They are like the opposite poles of a magnet
They exist together - not one without the other
There is no south pole without the north
But they cannot exist together - not with each other
...
Unusual it is, unusual they are
She questions but never asks
He answers but never says
What painful complement they are to each other
What perfect tragedy
...
That closing winter had passed
The snows had melted
The water unfrozen
The tears dried
...
The ash is gone, the dust is blown
The sun went too brightly, he cannot open his eyes
The wind no longer cold, she cannot hold her hands
Their keystone crumbled and the cycle stopped
The spring would no longer fade to summer
...
Life sprung once more, flourishing like a bountiful ocean
The flowers bloomed, of every possible color
The trees burst to life, green and brown and alive
The birds soared, flew against the heavens across the sky
...
The butterflies fluttered, from a grass to a tree
The sakura had showered its beautiful, most precious blossoms.
Picturesque it is, like a still life painting
So still it looks dead
Beautiful yet lifeless
...
This is the last spring
~0~0~0~
"Waking from a nap – the spring day has darkened"
– Yosa Buson