Po...etry Across its peak, the blossom blooms. The cherry ripens A flower grows, still young and meek, pride has never darkened. A man he weeps, for love he seeks, this man by love is reckoned Now they go, to blossomed peak Here he’s strong, apart, he’s weak A week alone, they spent, he’s grown, The flower’s stem, Now broken. Curtains don, dropped on the peak, glistening blossoms Shine so sweet the flash of god, just once, he’s reached To mourn man’s losses The roar of pride never far behind comes ever hardened He dries his eyes, and combs his hair. His pride he bears, Down in his lair, Sorrow, his toil. His hand he folds Another man, claimed his heir. Adam, fell, In his snare. The flower goes, All dead and dry, It lays below the quiet despair No longer comes, no grasping hair A single sanguine sapphire so blue, From the peak, where blossoms grew Rivulets, roaming, round and through. A tear’s been shed, The flower blooms once more.