Isn't Everyone Born Alone

Isn't everyone born alone?And isn't freedom also a price.

Wind passes through the window gauze,moonlight falls into the cup,like a flower that has never spoken.

I used to thinkthat with someone walking beside meit would not count as drifting;later I learnedthat some shadows come closeonly to keep me company throughone stretch of evening cloud.

Clouds have nowhere to return to,so all their lives they keep changing;the sound of the tide never stays,yet it turns every drawing-backinto an arrival.

And I too was afraid,afraid the world ran too deep,afraid that once a heart went downit would never again recognizethat one grain of star-sand inside it.

But the night comes down layer on layer,and the stars never speak;the river goes forward aloneand never asks the silencefor an answer.

Maybe freedomwas never about who lets go of whom,but the river inside the heartat last no longer afraidof flowing toward the boundless.

So you see,I am walking alone,and I have not really lost anything.

The starlight is far,the wind is loud,and my soulis opening, out of this human world,slowly,into a nameless instant.