The Light Reached the Table

The light
reached the table.

It had crossed
the olive trees,

the stone wall,

the sea.

It found
the empty chair

without hesitation.

I watched it

rest there.

Nothing changed.

No voice.

No footsteps.

Only morning,

doing

what morning does.

I sat there

a while.

Long enough

to know

that light

does not ask

whether we are ready.

It simply comes.

And for a moment,

without answering
anything,

it was enough.