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Before the Thunder Learns My Name

The Unseen Spark

By Takashi NagayaPublished 3 months ago • 1 min read

Between two vermilion gates,

the air remembers

what my hands have forgotten.

A shrine maiden sweeps invisible dust

from ancient stones.

Her broom never touches

the thin white crackling

stretching between cedar shadows.

The cicadas sing

so loudly

that silence becomes visible.

Somewhere,

a paper fortune trembles

without the permission of the wind.

I raise my fingers.

The space between skin

and another world

shrinks to the width

of a single spark.

Not lightning.

Only the quiet electricity

that lives inside waiting.

In Japan,

they say eight million spirits

wander through mountains,

rivers,

old wells,

and forgotten paths.

Perhaps they are nothing more

than static—

small interruptions

between certainty

and wonder.

A dragonfly lands

on the rim of a stone basin.

Its wings catch sunlight

like broken radio signals,

broadcasting a language

older than words.

I almost understand.

The bamboo grove whispers

without moving.

A bell rings

long after the rope

has stopped swaying.

My heartbeat answers.

The world is full

of conversations

that refuse translation.

A kimono sleeve brushes past mine.

No face.

Only the brief sting

of charged air,

as if someone

borrowed my outline

for the length

of a single breath.

Perhaps every farewell

leaves a little current behind.

Perhaps every prayer

is merely static

searching for a voice.

Night gathers

over tiled rooftops.

The festival lanterns

hum softly,

their amber circles floating

like patient stars

that chose to visit Earth.

Children laugh.

Goldfish turn

inside paper bowls of water.

Somewhere,

a spark leaps

from fingertip

to fingertip.

Tiny.

Blue.

Gone.

Yet every hair on my arm

still remembers

the invisible visitor.

Tomorrow,

tourists will photograph

the shrine,

the lanterns,

the quiet pond.

The pictures will capture

wood,

stone,

paper,

light.

But never

the charged breath

waiting

between two souls—

the invisible bridge

that exists

for only the smallest

fraction

of forever.

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About the Creator

Takashi Nagaya

I want everyone to know about Japanese culture, history, food, anime, manga, etc.

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    Written by Takashi Nagaya