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Feudal Memories

- Feudal Memories -
Based on some of my past-life memories�

Part One: Garden Tryst

It was not, so very long ago, in all time�s turning,
That the scent of your perfume was as lavender!
Even lifetimes cannot erase the sting of yearning.
The eternal spirit within me, will ever remember!
The heat of another summer, caressing my skin�
Like the caressing of flowing silk against my legs,
Reminds me of how all my longing did first begin.
Memory is a wave that crashes but never breaks!
The taste of the tea we shared, sweet like apples,
And yet, sweeter still is the peace of the gardens.
Beneath the Torii arch, where the heart so swells,
We walked there asking not of gods for pardons.
Past pagodas and shrines, through deep forests�
Whilst the Sakura trees bore witness to our love,
We walked, we danced, and we lived as if blest!
No lord was there to demand of loyalty to prove.
None saw our meeting, except the errant birds�
Or, mayhap all the night�s fireflies: in their season.
For some memories there can be truly no words,
And for our tryst I can give not any deep reason.
My father had been a Ronin, but no rogue was I!
Though my path would prove much darker by far.
I would oft long for the gardens� clear blue sky�
Even as I strove against my destiny�s terrible star!

Can I tell her or anyone the things I have beheld?
The tryst passed in another time, and I am lonely!
Herein, I shall record some of what, of old, I felt.
The better to share them, with modern company!
Shall I tell of the roaring of the ocean near Hara?
Or the snow-capped heights of distant mountains!
Each tree less green, the grass become so barren,
Because battle came, to bloody pristine fountains!

The greed of Tokugawa or the pride of rebellion!
Some chose his side in tradition and obedience�
And we fought him with courage like a fierce lion,
As we died, our blades conducting, a final dance.

Part Two: Fallen Legend

I remember the distant hills of the old prefecture,
Crowned with trees, far above seas of tall grass.
So far, from Edo: here, so wild was all of nature,
And silent the breeze, which blew never too fast!
Where the river flowed out, to meet the water�
My thoughts wandered, wondered, even drifted.
I was and am: the son, as well as the daughter�
On my journey, I beheld much whilst a veil lifted.
I still saw the faces of the fallen: who fell, for me!
In one final stand, where they fought: for Heaven.
Was it my head, men saw on a pole in Nagasaki?
That was how they told the ending of my legend.
Even in times of peace, I remember old battles�
Wherein, my white robes became stained scarlet.
There is turmoil in my heart: that nothing quells�
Except, for moments of love, and of gentle quiet.
Mine was a fallen legend, as from it I did rise up,
Changed and yet the same in spirit as ever I was.
At a table with death, warriors oft will go to sup,
But I did not seek her for I served a fairer cause.
Her scent was not lavender, but crimson tainted!
I saw her visage in a statue of the Virgin I beheld,
Which made me tremble, so that I nearly fainted!
In a tiny village: where oft I had prayed and knelt.

The statues later eras made of me: have no life�
No one could know, that I would not stay gone!
They are dead, inanimate, lacking peace or strife,
The images erected, long after wars lost or won!
Can they convey the horror of sword upon bone?
There is no elegance in slaughter, no divine merit!
Only the dying, and the dead, seeking to atone�
Their spirits, seeking, like the way fireflies will flit.

Where had the peaceful times gone that I adored?
The scent of your lavender perfume so fleeting�
Yet eternal in my memory where all this is stored!
Mayhap, one day, we will meet again, in greeting.

Part Three: Risen Colors

Do others rise again from death as I have arisen?
Or is it uncommon, for one to recall their doom!
We all have many colors, just like unto a prism�
Shining brighter, than the rabbit high in the moon.
All light, all dark, and a multitude of vibrant hues,
The spirit glows with an aura only the gifted spy!
Where do all the colors go, when battle ensues?
They turn red as if all of nature men would deny.
Where is nobility, when honor is soon forgotten?
I strive for benevolence and let compassion rule.
Without love, the spirit of man becomes rotten�
As in the absence of kindness we do grow cruel.
The cross I once fought for was broken asunder,
Where the bones of the slain lay heaped around.
And though I fell, before the Shogun�s thunder�
My spirit would never remain long in the ground.
The colors of love rise like a rainbow, in glories,
Long after the smoke of war has fully dissipated.
There is much that is not recorded in old stories!
The truths I tell, only the truly wise have awaited.
As a child in that life, I remember this sparrow�
Which alighted on a branch I so held in my hand.
Like a miracle, and yet my sight was so narrow,
For I could not know the course of time�s sand!

It has been long since I laid aside my old sword,
And taken up the pen which touches other souls.
There is so much power in the sharing of a word,
Power, that even the author never truly controls!
When the sun set on the bygone era now passed,
None imagined I would rise with a distant morn!
But here I am, with knowledge I have amassed�
Pen in hand, yet of old battles my spirit still worn.

The age of the old wars has departed; I am glad!
Though the scent of lavender haunts me always�
Reminding me of you, sometimes making me sad.
A mark of my rebirth: that my soul ever displays!