Ceaselessly Not Looking
Moonlight waves,
and grasses are quietly wobbling
Moths are moving
from a branch to a branch
A distant reflection
of a midnight-time bell
Weaves itself in the echoing drops
of the midnight-time petals
will you hear
Pebbles, yes, the pebbles, they glisten,
And all shadows are deep on the sand,
An eight-legged black dot
Crosses tirelessly
the vast space
the vast space
A quick shadow - a bat? -
flutters frantically
caught in the star-net
Much as I am not looking
Much as I am not thinking
Sending out my call
Sighing out my call
incessantly ceaselessly
silently soothingly
solemnly solely
soulfully searchingly
wistfully wishfully
stars are silent
ceaselessly spreading
they say
they say
either
your transmitter is dead
or you