The Shroud Of Sakura-Hana

Yoshihiko, drunk and absconding from

His duties of a husband, late at night

Staggered his way along a narrow lane

Singing mournful melodies mutely.

The moon shines in the heavens, dazzling, blinds

The poor man who glances up at the sky.

"O, Buddha! Is that the Moon or the Sun

For its light flood into every crevice!"

Sobered suddenly and silenced for once,

Yoshihiko looked around in a daze

For no longer was he groveling in

The concrete darkness of Shinjuku:

Fanning cold walls which separate the worlds,

Creeping Cryptic towers hogging the sky,

Burning neons that drown the eyes in pain,

Shattering loud shrieks of speeding cars

Could no longer be seen or heard at all.

There was a red-mud pack track, flanked by trees

Shrouded in dark incense, lit by a lamp:

Which looked like an eye shedding tears profusely.

Intrigued, like a foolish moth drawn to light

Yoshihiko scampered towards the lamp.

But to his horror, it was not a lamp

But a bony eye socket, hollow and lit

By the deceitful blue flames of a kitsune.

Gashadokuro, owner of the eye

Stood up, glaring at him in deep hatred.

The blood-soaked skeleton, made from the corpses

Of victims of famine and savage wars

Bellowed out in an Earth-shattering scream:

"Sinner! Thou dost stand in purgatory

Waiting for thy judgment for thy cursed life!"

Panic-stricken, Yoshihiko stumbled around

Crawling on the falling sakura petals

His vision obstructed by the bright hues

Of the cherry blossom forest, his grave.

Sweet bells chime grimly from a distance

A woman enrobed in a halo followed by spirits.

The deity in her deepest robes of violet

Outshines the black darkness and the dazzling trees.

She floats her way to him, holding a skull,

The vase for her ikebana decked with

Blue Roses and "Lily of the valleys".

The sparkling being with an innocent smile

Beamed with satisfaction and desire.

"Yoshihiko, have you forgotten dear

The Wisteria of my Hell Garden

I, Izanami, thy master, gifted

Thee the mortal shell in which thy now resides

For thy whispered in my ears, strains of love

For thy promised me the love of a man.

For I, abandoned by Izanagi

Wronged by a trickster of a mere flower:

I, Goddess of Death and Destruction

Am enraged by thy filthy mortal life

Of chasing virgin flesh and perverse dreams."

She crouches down, close to the muted man

Touching her forehead with his, whispering,

"My dear, be mine, be caged In Hell forever.

The ecstasy of love, it's a passionate flame,

Can dry thee up like petals in Autumn.

Be my Higanbana, here in the skull

My beautiful ikebana forever.”