Poetry

The unthinking begins again 
watching a lunar 
explosion. 
 
The smallest droplet: 
I never had any agenda, 
holding on to emptiness. 
 
A dark jumps out at me. 
I push the light 
forward― 
 
to see your face, O 
invisible. Where the road 
ends? I want to start 
 
my new journey, unloading 
the accumulated wealth 
of erudition.