Balanced Simplicity

An empty Japanese garden rests in afternoon light,
raked gravel flowing in quiet waves
around patient stones.

No footsteps cross the bridge.
No voices disturb the air.

A single maple leaf drifts down,
landing without ceremony
upon the patterned sand.

The pond reflects sky and branch
without choosing either.

Koi move beneath the surface—
or perhaps it is only shadow.

Nothing here asks to be admired.
Nothing seeks completion.

The garden is whole in its emptiness,
balanced in its simplicity—
stone, water, moss, air—
each exactly where it is.

In the hush between wind and stillness,
the world gathers itself
and quietly
lets go.