Maborosi

Maborosi ★★★★★

It hits me sometimes. When I stop thinking about what I'm doing right now and let my mind adrift, let myself stare towards the distance. The horizons always seem to elicit these thoughts, memories of loss from long ago that still sting beyond the grave I buried them in. Gazing outward I see landscape, but just as much as the subject am I gazing at the aspect of distance itself. Sky meets ground. Meets city, meets trees, meets mountain and sea. There is always a meeting, of heaven and earth, somewhere out in the distance that cannot be reached and cannot be grasped. But it can always be seen.

Maboroshi no hikari. Phantasmic light. Will-o'-wisps that dance in peripheral sight, a beautiful glimmer that beckons you home. How easy it is to give in to invitation when you feel like you've lost the light of your life. The sea crashes, then it calls, and you ponder answering back. Heaven has never felt closer; the horizon looks welcoming tonight.

It hurts me sometimes. When I get caught up in remembrance after doing so well and let my mind despond, let myself mire in memory. On these days the distance seems so small, small enough to finally reach out and grasp it. So I wait. I wait for it to pass, for the phantasm to fade. It's always out there in the distance where heaven someday meets earth and I can see it, I can see it beaming at me – and that's good enough. It never stops hurting, but it hurts a little less each day. A wonderful season indeed.

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