Tale of Spring

You pick your own flowers and arrange them in just the vase. You send a prayer of forgiveness to the ikebana masters. They roll in their graves, while you’re already lost in your dreams of courtly love, chivalry, and a strong moral spine. The Ming dynasty meets the Fujiwaras and the tale of Genji. There’s poetry of the highest and unmatched battles of the wit. You didn’t become a mathematician because the stories of infinity and infinite love are told so much better in literature. So you took that path. You meet your lover there, in the words and their touch. And when you say, ‘I want to touch you,’ in words that have the strength of the longest infinity, you bring all the Emperors down. They look at the flowers in your eyes, and their desire submits to your spells. ‘Where is my body?’ they wonder, but you keep that a secret.



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