The things that disappear
Go where? I don't know-
The secret place of all beautiful things
The precious, delicate, broken creatures
Go somewhere safe at last,
To where they can never know harm anymore.
Sometimes they come just to teach us
How to let go, how to learn to love
And then to let them go free, at just the right time
The smallest thing is an enclosed world in itself
Much more than we can ever understand
And relies not on our memories or emotions:
It comes from nowhere
Listed on any maps journey
And returns there, leaving us certain
That a hallowed, empty spot is forever inside us
Which must be refilled, over and over:
This is what life is.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem