this morning i just read
from her who is so far away from me
(we only know each other by name
we have never met for once)
that there is no 'other' but it does
not mean that there is just a 'self' either
it is this oneness that makes us what we are
and so there is no other
no self, like the way how things grow
side by side, the tree and the snake,
the moss on the rocks, the wind and the sky,
the sea and the rivers,
there are no boundaries now no fences no walls,
this logic of absurdity: what if you do not exist?
what if this world is not what it is?
what if there is no force of gravity? no air?
what if there is no one? what if?
what? what if there is no word?
this morning i realized that i am alive
and that asking questions are more beautiful
than having the answers, which are
where the road ends, and then there is no forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem