Untroubled

To be, or not to be—

the mind circles the question

like wind around a hill.

Thought weighs life and death,

shadow against shadow,

as if the sky must choose

between cloud and blue.

But the pine does not debate its standing.

The river does not argue its flow.

Morning arrives

without consulting the night.

The question rises,

then falls back into silence.

In the stillness beneath thought

being needs no defense,

no conclusion.

Breath enters,

breath leaves.

And the world continues—

untroubled

by the question

that once seemed everything.