He Who Knows Nothing, Feels Everything

By Rado Gatchalian

In the shadow I hear my soul

creeping like a ghost

whose beginning is from the end;

If I shall surrender to darkness —

am i still worthy to shine,

though flickering,

in the universe?

How can the masterpiece

complete the cycle

of birth and death

when all that is required

is a small shining stone

in a delicate piece called heart?

But how shall I accomplish

any merit

when all that is required

is a losing self whose purpose

is only to find?

As the elders of generation

from ancient to modern:

there is only one wisdom possessed —

he who knows nothing, feels everything.

More than everything

is nothing.

For me to see is to open and close

and open again

the gate where the entry is to depart.