Komorebi

The tips of the tree branches
are touching a place in the air

where something ends and something
begins to say, don’t look at me

like the past, the extreme reach
of your fingers in dreams

towards people who are not here,
not allowed, this is a film

which no one cast, the dialogue
has vanished entirely and there’s

only a monologue which keeps
breaking up into light through leaves,

the word is komorebi, looking is us,
and the blood-red of the leaves

lights up and speaking is done,
there is only looking

and you must be innocent
of endings, because look

at the leaves, some endless glow,
what no one on earth has done.