This poem is about the wordless, the beautiful.
What, do you need a manual, to feel the heat of the sun?
Look, look at this beauty. It has no reason.
Feel its blessing. Nothing is as good as this.
Perhaps this poem is a miracle. Perhaps it’s a trick.
It was written by the inside voice.
No-one can describe what that voice knows; not even me.
Nobody knows which shell hides the pearl.