by James Keller


Something is hidden, something is secret
in almost everything we seek to know,
we keep on looking, but
it always slips away
whether we are wide awake or asleep,
we sense it as it glides away
in the garden of insomnolence.

No matter how much we concentrate on
what it is that completely alludes us.
We cannot locate it,
it is not here nor there,
its secret is that it is everywhere
or nowhere since we were expelled
from the garden of our innocence.