Be that

Every word I know has been used up –

like metaphor.

Each sadness that arises feels thin,

past gone.

There is no sweetness in the morning.

There is no end to the sea

or black rock running secret

beneath it all.

There is no life, but what life

gives back.

There is no note without ecstasy.

Be that empty.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *