Ayin

The nothing that there is
And the nothing that is not
The nothing that made something
For a return to nothing
The nothing that is known by negation
The nothing between you and it
The nothing that is you
The nothing that is it
The nothing between you and you
The nothing between it and it
The nothing

At twilight
Down cracked marble steps
You enter the centuries old royal garden
Fog clouding the landscape
Weathered statues
With severed heads and arms
Stand in shadow
Their images reflected in the leaf-strewn ponds
The air overripe with decay
Untended black trees covered with lichen
Bend toward a white sky
Overgrown shrubs destroying
The once precise geometry
Of the gardener

A child's balloon
Its string tangled
In a tree's high branch
Waiting, straining,
For the wind to set it free

To disappear across the border
Or escape into the high mountains
Cover your tracks in the dense forest
Or swim in fathoms beneath the sea
Congregate with snow monkeys
Or with reptiles on the desert floor
You take yourself wherever you go
Under the watchful sun