Rest in Peace, Isshi.
You would have loved summer for it's comforting warmth.
I would imagine you basking in the rays of it with glory, a smile on your face,
your beloved guitar in hand, humming an unknown melody,
yet ever connected
to earth, air, water, and fire.
You would have loved autumn for all the colors it brings,
your hands, ever so careful with every stroke of the brush,
raven-colored ink fills the space and corners of a once purely white paper.
You would have recited a poem in glory of these colors,
a cup of hot green tea, sitting beside your kimono.
You would have loved winter for the elegance of white all around the city.
The crisp, cold winter morning air seeping through your bones, leaving them frozen despite being hidden under your pockets.
But your mind would always soar to an image of a lonesome pair trapped in the ancient period
you have treasured so much.
Your stories might have brighten many pages of your notebooks by then.
Chilling as they maybe, they were creations you have always found happiness to share to people,
exploring a truth of human nature, one story at a time.
And of course you would have loved the following spring,
a bloom of flowers here and there.
You would have loved the glow and vibrancy of those small creations of nature
despite the imploring urge to sneeze because of pollen.
You have carried the symbol of the cherry blossom with pride to the people you have touched,
and now,
you have become one.
A beautiful cherry blossom tree that had bloomed and faded in time,
yet never forgotten, or will ever be.
Thank you for everything, Isshi.
For the music, the encouragements, your words, your warm smile.
Rest in Peace.