I am waiting for something,

Waiting for something to emerge

Or end,

For the leaf in the wind

to divulge its secret

In this ground-down residue

Of a failed experiment.

 

At the wheel in restlessness

The signs that pass

Say nothing in earnest

The right books might as well

Have been written in Braille,

There is not a shred of evidence.

I cannot dress up in the past

I cannot rest

Until I find out

Whether all of this

Is not just a nuisance

But a test.

 

Still,

I will not have it burned in

That to love is sufficient.

Is the moment of birth equal to the moment of death?

I am inclined toward this thesis

Death is such a long process.

Will I wake up in the end

Or will I be oblivious?

 

In actual fact, this

is a matter of indifference

As long as I am not made to come back.

It is just that

Success has been less

Than the failure I’ve had.

Though I have no regret,

In the final breath

Failure is all we get.

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