does something remain
when one is leaving?
what goes away, from and to where
when one chooses to stay?*

lost in these preoccupations,
between drowning in coffee
raising hope like blue smoke
twirl before blown and fade,
i find myself seeking refuge
in secrets and mysteries:

i discover a world born
between leaving and staying:
the shape  of words spoken
and thoughts hoarded more than gold

every day i find new questions
whose answers belong to the night

i know that i do not know
while daylight dims, pressed,
until there is only everything
holding nothing.