What remains
Like a pool with ripples, then none. And I remain.
Deep and dark that singular watery eye. Laced with silver
on my approach, or that of another here beside its gaze.
Not just shy, not revealing too soon, let ribbons catch first glance.
And wait.
Even the yellow day must pass through this gate. And wait.
What is to be seen will not be seen, not with light.
Breeze knows. Breeze cooperates.
Sometimes looking like leaves and sky reflecting one.
And wait.
Wait for leaves to catch that breath, give no more light.
Wait for that mirrored pool at last to swallow calm.
And when nothing remains, I remain.
No truth will be given, only revealed.
And voiceless at that.
A single word would break that gaze,
just as stories separate the watcher and watched.
It is beneath intent, beneath wisdom too.
Beneath a star-black sky, heaven's gate,
a pearl, a leaf, a ripple gone by.
And when nothing remains, I remain.
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