Ruins

All the world is in ruins,
and I’m trying to build it up.
The Lord waits on me,
as He too needs rest.

Written in March 2025

Seeds

I’ve planted so many seeds, yet I still can’t find my garden.
Like a borderless country, my roots are everywhere—
I have many places to call home, but none of them feels like one.
My home is the garden—the one I have yet to grow.

Written in March 2025

Samurai

I love you as Japan loves its cherry trees;
Strongly enough to keep them close,
Freely enough to let them blossom.
You’re my samurai;
the keeper of my heart’s nobility
and the strategic warrior of my freedom.
You’re both my medieval and modern Kyoto;
brave in transition, and harmonic in development.
I love you as a graceful geisha loves her life;
through art and tradition,
through grief and sadness,
through bravery and subtlety.
You’re
You’re the reiwa of my akiya heart –
One that fills the insufferable emptiness
with old pages of the Manyoshu.

Written in April 2019

Revolution of Love

When I gaze into her eyes, I see me.
When she looks into my soul,
She sees herself; willing to win and rest—both at the same time.

How far are we ready to go for each other?
We don’t travel with the same pace [anymore]
Yet, we always meet at the same well and pour into each other’s cups.

[There stands an empty jug filled with wholeness].

If I’m thirsty, she will give me water.
If she’s hungry, I will give her food.

One of us wants to know God, the other one—colors; for they both know one of each.
If you see them looking at each other, you will see Jesus at work; teaching women they are worth His revolution.

How good is God when you get to know Him through the soul of your friend?

Written in 2022

The Creator’s Chambers

Who can know the mind of God?
I went into the woods, and there He was—
Waiting for His daughter.
“Come, be still.”

I look around.
He’s created new life:
In the smell of the soil,
In the chirping of the birds,
In the baby leaves.

There is no toil here.
Up by the hill,
A tall, thin branch called after me—
It’s cracking, a tale to my ears.

At midday, it opens its doors:
“Enter. You’re home,”
I hear.
“You wanted to be alone with Me.”

Written in April, 2025 in the woods of Vodno