It’s good to map the empty expanse,
to have a compass
and somewhere to go.
It’s good to follow the signs
and glide down the road,
well paved and well lit.
It’s good to stick to the solid ground
and to look before the leap.
It’s good to gaze at the stars
and imagine in their ancient light
the face of the future.
It’s good to know the names and the forms
of the leaves of grass that go
into the bundle of being.
It’s good to hold on to
the speech and the silence
of the explorers gone by.
It’s all good and sensible
to skirt the ever-gaping chasm
of not knowing, for as long as one can.
But then one day it comes,
Uninvited, unwanted.
The urge.
To watch the road disappear
and break through to the unmapped.
To let go of the explorers
and be lost in the uncharted
To lose the ground
and let the leap go on and on
To forget the names
and let the forms dissolve
To unravel the bundle
and let the leaves scatter
To gaze at the stars
and see light, only light.
The terror and the beauty
of an endless drift
in the measureless space.
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