Unable to figure out the last step of an origami, I sit there, frustrated.
I unfold the paper and start over. Soon, I’m blocked again.
I flatten the paper on the table. The creases mark the battle. I sit still, imagining the finished origami (a tato box).
So close, and yet unable to finish.
It’s frustrating. Just like an unfinished haiku.
Every once in a while you get a flash of genius, a haiku that simply comes to you, but by the time you write it down, you forget the last line or a word. And the haiku is unfinished, imperfect.
You know the answer, it was given to you a moment ago. Now, the missing word is this big gap in the middle of the poem, staring you in the face.
And, just like a used origami paper, the haiku cannot be reused or repaired. It can only be trashed or recycled.
ancient warriors’ dreams wander in the recycling bin (JT)
The summer’s grass!
all that’s left
of ancient warriors’ dreams.
Sick on my journey,
only my dreams will wander
these desolate moors
by Matsuo Basho)
PS Check out the comments below to see what this blog post would look like as a haibun (proposed by Angelee Deodhar) or poem (proposed by Michael Dylan Welch).