One after another
I pluck the words
that move in the passing wind
and throw them into the sea.
The words that float and disappear
on the withdrawing waves
raise again as light
on the distant boats.
Only the word that reaches
the setting sun
gets dissolved in
the evening sea.
The sea that spills over
in the failing light
puts forth
a small poem.
Then by waking up
as one star after another
the universe
starts reading it.
,..
No comments:
Post a Comment