The Blossoms whisper, carrying their secrets to the ears of those able to listen. Something stirs.
On the hilltop high, some celebrate, unaware of what is brewing below, in the coming night.
It is suddenly so calm, the ponds lay quiet, reflecting the sky.
A sentry, with his lone lantern, lights the way, for whom, no one knows.
Flowers glow, with mystical glow.
Paper boats with well wishes float along, words twirling, caught by the whispers of the blossoms. Something stirs.
Strange creatures, from the deep, surface from their sleep, drawn by the currents of power. Something stirs.
Asleep, hidden, for 1000 years.
On the hilltop high, the lights still twinkle.
On the hilltop high, only the blossoms move.
From the cave, where it stirs, out to the sky, where it moves, up on the rock, where it rests, where you see it’s mighty crest.
Nothing else stirs.
It speaks to the moon, the trees and the ponds. It blesses the people, whom are it’s charge. It wishes them well, and bids them good night. It looks to the air, and takes to flight.
What wonders unfold, on Hanami Festival night. What lies beyond the border, what fantasies come to light?
Sim Sponsored by Fuubutsu Dou and created by Nya Alchemi