The Okinawan Vessel of Love and Language

Yesterday afternoon, I saw a dove ascending, soaring.

But it was not as it appeared to be:

It was the blue sky descending, hurtling,

to meet the bird hovering quasi-steady far below

until its parched beak sipped a droplet from a cloud.


In the same way that you haven’t sought language;

it was language that searched for you to find

the finest instrument to express itself.