Writing a poem
is not writing.
It is waiting
without waiting.

Let thought fall away.
Let yourself fall away.
Enter emptiness.

Noise becomes rhythm.
Rhythm becomes seeing.
One thing.
Only one.

The world gathers
into a single word—
flies, returns,
becomes meaning.

In the stillness,
I lose myself.
Then finally,
I am myself.

The poem flows out.
I simply follow.