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Like fragile sakura blossoms, peace is fleeting.
I yearn for the grace of stillness.
With the precision of a sword seeking its sheath,
it eludes me.
It dances before me, like smoke dissipating in a roaring gale,
or sunlight dancing on dappled waters.
I never know for certain where it may be found.
I cannot capture it.
Instead, I haunt its passage, my hunger never sated.
Only in You, is that desired stillness found
and there it is not stillness but the rushing flood
of adoration unleashed.
Perhaps I should fear such a thing, as the living fear
the stillness of the mortal heart.
I cannot bring myself to such indulgence though, no more than a warrior
might fear the deathsong his blade must bring.
You are like that to me, Grimnir.
The last decisive cut of a warrior's blade is kinder
than time spent away from You.
In the end, it seems I have abandoned my search for solitude
to court instead the storm.
© Galina Krasskova, 2005
Linda. Public Domain, credits: NOAA - National
Oceanic & Athmospheric Administration
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