I am uncertain
What makes Understanding
Easy
Between the two:
The scattered constellations,
Or the similar melodies of the songs that their people sing
At night
After the workday is over,
The fire is lit,
And the stories float around
Together with the sparks.
I remember once
Sitting on a wooden veranda where
Understanding surged into the spring evening
With two spirits,
Two glimmering spots,
Irrelevant and unnoticed,
Mortal in the moment,
But cleverly crafted later into
The being that I call my consciousness.
The Crafter laughed before
Breaking my wings, but left a watchdog,
The one-eyed beast,
Dumb and persistent,
My angry consciousness,
That conceals the Secret of Understanding
From fools like me.