Again, I Ask

I know too much about life
and so little. The writing
is on the wall, they say-

where is that wall?

Profoundly intelligent,
the river says nothing
at all; for this reason,

stones are deaf.

What great knowledge
the empty bodied stars
impart without knowing

the meaning of love.

On a hillside, the moon
begins its nightly walk;
no question or doubting

its well-worn path.