Light in a dark forest. A dream that wouldn't let go.
Eight million gods. Even in things you overlook.
On the night a village tried to burn down a shrine.
On waiting two years for a knife, and what arrived.
Made from wood that breaks axes. Named after a girl.
Prayers chanted on this mountain for 1,200 years.
The calendar nobody follows and the world forgot.
What hot water and strangers teach about being alive.
Cold water, mulberry bark, a thousand-year gesture.
Four hundred years of the same street, unchanged.
On the island where the trees outlived history.
Japan didn’t invent the seasons. Just kept counting.
鴻雁北
Wild geese fly north
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