Ieodo

Blackness swallowed the image.
With neither sky nor earth,
the whole world whirls.
The tree shudders from its roots,
and the horse has lowered its head.
For there is no boat left
to watch for.
In the middle of that blackness,
a single house
crouches low and endures.
This is
the darkest Ieodo.
Before the empty boat returns,
before the crow cries,
it is the night
when the storm, in full force,
is carrying that man away.
And on this night,
in some room on land,
someone still knows nothing
and waits for him.