Unwritten

For hours —
I sit
Just sit, sipping tea

Occasional wandering thoughts
Pass by —
Like the sounds of distant cars
None stick

Passionlessly unperturbed
Nothing to do, nothing to say
I write

There’s nothing left
To write
Truly, nothing left unsaid
Unwritten

Nothing left
To be gained — nothing at all —
Gained

Breath by breath
Tracing some invisible thread
Of fleeting words —
Lines and shapes

I express
The inexpressible
Nothingness —

Being