A chill sweeps across a wide river,

Interrupting the thick humidity of warm spring air. 

A light breeze wisps gently above the surface of the water. 

Overcast and moonless, with the exception of two stars

Shining through a break in the clouds, 

The night is pitch-black. 

In the inky water the reflection of two distant suns glimmer like a pair of eyes. 

They intently examine the fisherman

Who pauses before casting his line into the abyss. 

Chirping crickets and frogs assure him

That the emptiness he sees is only an illusion.

Without knowing where the water begins and the land ends

He casts his line far out into the profound vastness of the night,

And patiently awaits redemption.