My Own Emptiness Poem by RIC BASTASA
My Own Emptiness
morning
is an empty slate.
i go outside
this room into an open garden
rays of sun arrive
upon leaves soundlessly
mushrooms grow on the sides
of the old narra tree
i imagine i see some
elves
big biga leaves capture
water and on its edges are dews
i am empty like an empty slate of
morning
sunlight cannot
neither dew
nor nymphs of myth
fill it up.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/29/2026 6:57:05 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
