The Chosen One
I was not thirty yet, and it was fall.
My wife and I were touring in Japan
While on our summer break from teaching school.
Our luck, our parents lived to grow us tall,
And modeled health and art to groom wingspan,
Though there were times, kids thought it wasn’t cool.
Around the world two times by thirty-one
And this was all by choice; I chose each stop!
The temple gardens garbed in fall array.
Our luck, that we could serve and still have won
A splendid life that went on till we’d drop,
With even work so often turned to play!
Volcanos on the island’s southern tip
And Shogun castles float in Asian air,
Our Ryokans loved homes away from home.
My luck, that I gave Vietnam the slip,
For killing others is a sad affair,
But naught for me so sad as Church in Rome.
Somehow I learned to love a sword fight film,
Though as a warrior I would surely die.
My luck, the pen was stronger than the sword.
I forged computer skills to build my realm,
With walls of code built castles in the sky,
And over friends and foe alike I soared.
But in Kyoto lies my heartfelt fame,
A famous artist let me buy his work,
For what I had! (I would have sold my breath!)
He spent three days just showing us surname. (1)
My luck, I was mature, not childish jerk,
His painting hangs above my bed till death.
But crowning grace just seemed to come from gods,
Two fortunes gained from Buddhist temple’s prayer!
My luck, a monk agreed to read them too,
With mine in hand, “Ten thousand to one odds!”
“In all my life, I’ve not seen one! It’s rare!”
‘Among the lucky, chosen one is you!’
Brian Johnston
April 14, 2017
Poet’s Notes:
(1) For several days he drove us to his family temples, his favorite temples, to beautiful garden parks both inside and outside of Kyoto. We also shared several meals. When we had to go finally, I felt like I was leaving family
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