It was cloudy in the morning, but the sky soon cleared.
The cherry blossoms along Dankazura at Tsurugaoka Hachimangu Shrine have begun to open beautifully.
People are out in large numbers, enjoying the blossoms.
This is what a perfect day for cherry blossom viewing looks like.
And yet, in many people’s minds, there lingers the news of the U.S.–Israel invasion of Iran and the resulting energy crisis.
As long as reserves remain, a sense of calm may be maintained.
But how those reserves will be allocated is far from clear.
At least for now, electricity may be sustained by the temporary return to coal-fired power.
However, concerns remain about the availability of materials for various industrial products.
War, by its very nature, takes human lives.
No matter the justification, it is difficult to see any true cause that can legitimize it.
Those directly involved may each have their own reasoning.
Even so, it is hard to believe that this particular war carries any real justification.
A war without a visible exit strategy cannot possibly claim a meaningful purpose.
Seen this way, the loss of so many lives feels not only tragic, but profoundly futile.
Unlike cherry blossoms, human beings have only a few moments in life when they truly shine.
Those who have lost their lives in this conflict have lost those moments forever.
Can such a thing truly be acceptable?
Was there no one who could have stopped the outbreak of war?
It begins to feel as though those surrounding the decision-makers were merely yes-men.
If such people are steering the course of a leading nation,
then even the peaceful scene of cherry blossoms in Japan begins to feel fragile—almost like a facade.
Peace, like cherry blossoms, may be more fragile than it appears.
