A Haiku
by Igatona
---
"Pure blooming flower
The heart overcomes our mind
Gentle rain falling down"
-Kai Hiwatari.
I wrote that, one day. It kept me awake, a candle burning, everlasting in the period where the sun is extinguished by evil, and where my feelings matter little. The night, eternally the symbol of malice, kept me awake.
No, that's not true.
What kept me awake is this picture of an angel soaring to the sky, a vision of a heavenly being gleaming in the moonlight. Water converging together to form a perfect mirror to make me lose my gaze into his reflection, and drown myself like Narcissus before me. The difference being I am not in love with myself.
And like Pygmalion before me, I sculpted an image of my love from glimpses of my memories, made from pale flesh and a touch, a gentle touch of friendship that deserved, needed, had to become so much more. An important piece of my mind was occupied in an imaginated world, where he and I could love each other truly without the world's distractions coming into us.
Never before have I seen such perfection, a fish coming out of the water, taking human form to give us the blessings of the water. When I look at this picture, everything in my mind pieces together in order to make that picture mine, that moment, in my head, becomes eternal, and I am made whole once more.
I once thought that I could lose myself, and empty my mind by beyblading, but he makes me feel obsolete, like my beyblading perfection is next to nothing compared to his form in that picture. So pure, so...impossible to attain, yet he managed to do it.
Him of all people.
The one person I never considered to do anything correctly managed to impress an image of him so deeply rooted in my mind, I want to continue seeing this image forever, I want to kill myself so the last thing I see in this life is the male body at its finest...
Glistening in the moonlight.
I should have swam out to grasp that perfection in my hands, in my arms, and carve out the curves, the thighs, everything that defines his perfection, to add a sense of touch to the picture, to take into me his wholesome scent and to absorb his taste.
What I should have done and what I did are very different things, as contrasted as pause and play, sun and moon, dragon and tiger.
However, like Heracles before me, I am ready to suffer insurmountable odds to make that perfection be mine, I would even continue to be the ice king of beyblading if it means I will have a chance to taste that perfection once more...
And in the end, what do I have left of the instant that has changed my life? The instant where I discovered the sacred body of Max Mizuhara?
A haiku.
"Glistening moonlight
My love taken to the max
Ice could never melt"
-Kai Hiwatari
by Igatona
---
"Pure blooming flower
The heart overcomes our mind
Gentle rain falling down"
-Kai Hiwatari.
I wrote that, one day. It kept me awake, a candle burning, everlasting in the period where the sun is extinguished by evil, and where my feelings matter little. The night, eternally the symbol of malice, kept me awake.
No, that's not true.
What kept me awake is this picture of an angel soaring to the sky, a vision of a heavenly being gleaming in the moonlight. Water converging together to form a perfect mirror to make me lose my gaze into his reflection, and drown myself like Narcissus before me. The difference being I am not in love with myself.
And like Pygmalion before me, I sculpted an image of my love from glimpses of my memories, made from pale flesh and a touch, a gentle touch of friendship that deserved, needed, had to become so much more. An important piece of my mind was occupied in an imaginated world, where he and I could love each other truly without the world's distractions coming into us.
Never before have I seen such perfection, a fish coming out of the water, taking human form to give us the blessings of the water. When I look at this picture, everything in my mind pieces together in order to make that picture mine, that moment, in my head, becomes eternal, and I am made whole once more.
I once thought that I could lose myself, and empty my mind by beyblading, but he makes me feel obsolete, like my beyblading perfection is next to nothing compared to his form in that picture. So pure, so...impossible to attain, yet he managed to do it.
Him of all people.
The one person I never considered to do anything correctly managed to impress an image of him so deeply rooted in my mind, I want to continue seeing this image forever, I want to kill myself so the last thing I see in this life is the male body at its finest...
Glistening in the moonlight.
I should have swam out to grasp that perfection in my hands, in my arms, and carve out the curves, the thighs, everything that defines his perfection, to add a sense of touch to the picture, to take into me his wholesome scent and to absorb his taste.
What I should have done and what I did are very different things, as contrasted as pause and play, sun and moon, dragon and tiger.
However, like Heracles before me, I am ready to suffer insurmountable odds to make that perfection be mine, I would even continue to be the ice king of beyblading if it means I will have a chance to taste that perfection once more...
And in the end, what do I have left of the instant that has changed my life? The instant where I discovered the sacred body of Max Mizuhara?
A haiku.
"Glistening moonlight
My love taken to the max
Ice could never melt"
-Kai Hiwatari