Emptying Haibun
Waiting, I open myself but nothing enters. Even music’s comfort avoids me, preferring calmer ports or perhaps another’s wind choices. I drop the weighted cord through the flute, pull it, and watch the cloth ease out. Some days pain drags behind me no matter what words emerge, what phrases follow. Last night brought the season’s first fireflies. This wall of books grows taller each day.
exhaling, I note
smudges in the sky —
oh, dirty window
O at the Edges 
We can’t seem to release the pause button. (K)
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I’ve been searching for the reset button, but it keeps eluding me.
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I’ve been reading this over and over, savouring, comparing to my nothing, my pain, choices, what emerges,…. thanks again for sharing, Bob
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Thank you, Dan. Thanks for accepting my nothing…
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