I have already forgotten whole chapters of my life.
It now feels strange to even call it “my life”.
When we wake in the morning and our dreaming
dissolves, but maybe leaves a fleeting emotional
impression — that’s how it is when I look back.
If the past is empty, then so is the present and future.
Here is life as it actually is — a story written on water.
We forge a temporary identity from dream fragments,
then watch as it washes away in the tides of time.
I’ve heard many fine teachings, yet whatever the intellect
can gain, it can surely lose, despite all good intentions.
I won’t waste more words comparing water and ice.
In the end, both the wise and the foolish are silent.
I want to wrap myself up in that silence, but I still feel
the wounds of this tearful world, so I must answer,
we all must — we are responsible for each other.
Even if one good word would help, I will say it.
Even if nobody is responsible, I still will.