The unknown blade
Secured in its sheath
There, yet not there
Why do we fear it?
Only by ignorance
What is, is benign
Without difference
Unwielded, sheathed
The painting
The photograph
The sculpture
The unsung note
Not motionless
Without origination
Unmistakable
Neither resting
Nor aging
Neither beautiful
Nor compelling
Undifferentiated
Mona Lisa’s wood
Her tree
Her sunlight
Her water
Her unknown blade
A blade of grass
Unknown, unsheathed
