Nothing…everything

on

white spring flowersyou are right.
there is nothing to give.
not the thought, not the heart, not the soul, not the bread
not the hand, not the eyes, not the smile, not the arms
not the bed, not the house, not the dream, not the song.

you are right.
there is no illusion left here.
only the simple truth of a not so simple paradox
and many little words chasing shadows
while light…timid and persistent
hides in every corner.

you are right.
there is nothing left to endure, nobody to meet.
the sorrows and dark seasons all passed
and all the guests at this doorstep are good friends.
all.
the anger and the grace
the coward and the champion
the charlatan and the saint.

you are right.
there is nothing to give.
everything was always already yours.

all that is left is everything to bring.

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