Such A Mystery

On this empty plain,
I look about.
All around me are whispering echoes.
The buzz, like cicadas,
haunts me and becomes my music.
If I knew what they meant,
I'd sift through the sands.
But they'd be as the grains that edge the ocean.                          
I'll let them remain unsolved, unsorted.
The sounds shall wash upon my ear whole,
for I have become a wide beach
stretching along this vast sea.
Delineating definations are blurred,
I am both question and answer,
the vastness of me,
such a mystery.
I listen to the cicadas.

JAL, 7-2-99