Like a match

You raised a finger to draw something.
The air had been plain before.
Now it wore a triangle.

Samurai arranged flowers, you said.
And revered nature, particularly trees.
Of course, the cherry and the maple still captivate Japan
During their short, separate seasons of brilliance. 

These words themselves formed a careful arrangement.
You lit white candles so it could be displayed. 

This is the classical style. When you see
a vase with three branches,
Think of Heaven, think of Earth, think of Man.

I nodded, but struggled for years.
Heaven was high and I was afraid.
Then a samurai with a pink face told me to jump
And, like a match, I burst into flames.

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