The cherry blossoms bloomed dutifully,
In the garden that stood opposite the graveyard, so beautifully.
The pretty pebbled road to the garden gate
Meandered slowly to the place where people met their ultimate fate.
The cool wind that solemnly blew the dust from the top of the graves,
Blew the hair of little children playing, to blissful ignorance, they were slaves.
The dirt where the fallen men lay peacefully,
Was just 50 steps way from where young men jogged hastily.
Farcically trying to prolong their days,
Calmly ignoring the inevitable long night that lay.
Whispered promises of undying love in the grass,
Lay there on the other side rotting as carcass.
People buried little seeds, planting saplings in the mud, a sign of renewal
While some buried bodies, and called life cruel.
The sun sets poetically on one corner of the garden of eternal rest,
While the people return home, renewed with a new zest.
I marvel at their willful ignorance and optimism
Their desire to hold on
Even though before their eyes
Lies the fact that all will be lost.