'There Is No Riddle', Wittgenstein Poem by Miroslava Odalovic

there is no riddle but in the mind
riding the inate thought waves
riding a language lonely rides
bathing within the foam names
white blind still sublime
soaking wet that mind craves
the end of its own time
to surf the peaceful ocean
of life long devotion

there is no riddle but in the eyes
watching the stairless sunsets
climbing the sight up the skies
casting the fragile fish nets
into the water whirl that defines
their depth their width their prey
and the burden of their day
in a silent breath of air

there is no riddle but in the hand
that open the shrines that opens the caves
some light to dark to lend
to pull up the blinds
to comprehend
those eyes that look
those eyes that took
the colour of the first born mind
the riddle to paint the answer to find