Culture
Sentinel of Spring.
Sentinel of Spring.
Cherry petals drift on Osaka's breeze,
Millie's ears perk, her nose twitches, pleased.
We wander winding paths, her paws padding soft,
As blossoms burst in clouds of pink and white aloft.
Okawa's waters whisper and wind,
Reflecting castle walls that climb and shine.
Millie's eyes, bright and wise, scan the scene,
Her tail wags time to Spring's new theme.
Sakura scents swirl, sweet and strong,
Millie sniffs, savoring each note of the song.
We climb stone steps, worn smooth by time,
Her loyal presence, a comfort sublime.
At the summit, we pause, breathless, awed,
By beauty blooming, history thawed.
Millie sits, sentinel at my side,
As cherry-tinged winds around us glide.
Down by the river, petals float,
Like tiny pink-hued fairy boats.
Millie splashes, playful and free,
Her joy infectious, pure glee.
In this foreign land, familiar love,
My canine companion, gift from above.
Together we witness Spring's grand display,
In Osaka's embrace, this perfect day.
Dances through time
Ancient rites, once revered, now reel
In playgrounds where children peal
With laughter, unaware of the seal
That time has placed on what was real.
Solemn steps of shamans past
Morph into games that last and last,
As cultural currents, swift and vast,
Erode the essence, unsurpassed.
Tribal truths, once held so dear,
Trickle down through time's frontier.
Sacred symbols disappear,
Leaving echoes faint but clear.
Profound becomes profane, we find,
As generations leave behind
The weight of wisdom, once enshrined,
Now light as air and unconfined.
From archaic altars to schoolyard scenes,
The dance of time intervenes,
Transforming what tradition means—
A metamorphosis of memes.
So sacred turns to silly play,
As yesterday fades into today.
Yet in this change, we might survey
The threads that bind us, come what may