My heart like a folded rose

My heart like a folded rose
awaits morning to unfold.
The vast garden is quiet
only the leaves sing softly with the breeze.

When the sun crosses the threshold,
a thousand rose petals sprinkle the garden path.
My heart has finally opened
revealing the treasures inside of me.

The scent of the flowers intoxicate my eyes,
my lips still carry the taste of the last kiss of the night.
All I can do is to keep on giving,
peace comes with doing harm to no one.

Kenza.

The poet

The poet sees the light
that seeps through
the breaches of the heart.

With only letters at his disposal,
he strings them together
to express what is silent.

He then sets them free
becoming the morning breeze
that embraces the broken.

Kenza.

Inspiration: reading Hafez in the early morning. 

Ryōkan’s hut

8A8A2F88-30E6-469A-9723-7418BCA30F9F

Often, I think I am in Ryōkan’s hut.
The sky is framed by the window,
birds come on the window sill chirping away
enthralled by the morning glory overflowing its small pot.
Cars pass intermittently in a muffled sound.
Rain falls gently on the roof
and I pretend it is thatched.
I sit like he did.
I push aside the woes of the world,
my mind at peace.
You may understand, you may not,
and that is fine.
As Ryōkan wrote,
“Who can indeed content himself with this manner of life,
Unless he has seen himself altogether lost in the world.”

Kenza.


– Quote from one of Ryōkan’s (Japan, 1758-1831) Chinese poems.
Art: self-portrait by Ryōkan.