Hold Nothing

A river flows on,

never grasping the water,

just feeling its course,

while hands clutch at reflections,

losing all but empty waves.

The breeze does not pause,

nor ask to be remembered.

It dances, then fades—

yet the trees bow in knowing,

swaying only in the now.

A bird’s song is sung,

not kept in ink or iron.

It lifts, then is gone—

but the dawn still listens well,

without need for memory.

Clouds drift without chains,

unconcerned with their own shape.

Eyes may chase their forms,

but only the open mind

feels the sky beyond the veil.

Let the world unfold,

unwritten and unrecorded.

To see is enough.

Hold nothing, and you will find

all things resting in your palms.