The Quiet and The Open

What is it that remains when everything is still moving?

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If the world is full, why does something within it feel unseen?

And if nothing is missing... why does the search continue?

Two walks through the same light.
Two breaths through the same rain.
Yet who is the one that changes-the world, or the one looking?

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Is there a glass, or only the belief of distance?

And if the glass were never there... what would be left to notice?

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A question appears, then dissolves before it can be held.
Another arrives, but does it belong to anyone at all?

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Is understanding something that arrives -
or something that disappears when named?

And when the search quiets, what remains -
quiet, or openness, or something without a name?

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No answer is offered here.
Only the invitation to look again.
And again.
And again.