On a journey, ill;
my dream goes wandering
over withered fields.
-Basho, November 28th, 1694
While lurking on the internet one day I stumbled upon a website listing poems, not normal poems.Death poems.
Being the curious one that I am, I delved deeper into their history. In Japanese society, they have been written century upon century, during the Edo period, and even today, though not as often. The Japanese soldiers of old often memorized a poem, to have it roll from their lips as the last spoken words before falling before his enemy.
Another common idea was to touch a brush to paper, and draw a simple circle, cast the brush aside, and give into the next worlds call. The circle, in zen Buddhism, represented the Void. The Void contained all knowledge, enlightenment, and all ever known within.
I have no real idea what makes this poem hold me with such firm grip.
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