Komorebi, or the sunlight filtering through the trees of leaves

meaning is the glimmer on a bunch of flowers
hanging gingerly from the bough of a tree,
as the rays of the sun trickle through the thinning foliage
and fall on the rotating petals;

it is the trellis the escaping sunlight creates on the path,
as it falls through the canopy of copper pod and rain trees,
so that one moment you are in the dark,
the next, saddled with a suffusion of light;

it is what you see when you close your eyes
and turn your face up to the muted rays
as you stand in the shade of the massive beech tree
whose shadow lands softly on the carpet of its dead blossoms;

it is the theatre of dancing squiggles on the inside of your eyelids
when the streaks of light falling on them
leak into your skin and you see them with your imagination,
caught as they are, like you, in this limbo of light;

meaning, like komorebi, is what remains of your experiences,
what diffuses into your body when you filter them
with something porous, like a word; and words,
like leaves do with light, hide as much as they reveal.

About Aditi

My thoughts are who I am and I am what my thoughts make me.
This entry was posted in Experience, Poetry, words and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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