Poetry

He did not depart
or reached anywhere,
and did not realize himself.
When words could not find the meaning,
where the man will go?

He thought he did not believe in ‘why’,
the limits of purpose,
dictating the sentence.
Stones were still floating on the sea
and he was standing on a shipwreck.

Thinking and unthinking do not solve the mystery
of human turnings,
the malignancy of artificial intelligence.
A rebirth of enlightment can take over?

The objectivity becomes the subject.
You trot on the grass
to retrieve the moon,
fallen midnight.