Shadow Known Before

You know what I think?
What I can write—
the point where I suddenly stop,
that emptiness only you can touch.

Somehow I feel
my unspoken words are stored only with you—
like some silent pact.

Then are we acquainted from before?
How does the last breath of my thoughts
merge with your beginning?

From past convergences—
some experience, some pain, touch or feeling—
a silent path is born
from the shadows,
from where a new horizon comes into view.

Nothing from the past is my memory,
nothing from the present is my gain.
In time's relentless passage—
the changing light of the future will dissolve into newness.

In new creation
worldly joy will grow intoxicated, illusion will be born,
reduced to ash—all the faces we know.