"If the sun doesn't rise there, I'll be the sun."
In The Sun Rises Again, Japanese poet Yuu Ikeda offers a luminous meditation on hope as an act of faith. Across twenty-six spare, tender lyrics, nameless flowers bloom unseen, contrails stitch strangers together, and a winged moon keeps vigil over the lonely. Ikeda's voice is direct and unguarded, addressing a beloved "you" with the fierce devotion of Selene watching over Endymion.
This is poetry will unwrap the misty cocoon around your heart that life's darker moments have woven. What will emerge when the sun rises again?
