Yesterday, a dear friend invited me over. He lives and creates his art in Manhattan. I went to see him. We had a lovely time together. He insisted we visit the New York Yale Club. He is a university alumnus and a member there.

We stood outside this wonderful, tall building. It rises within a forest of New York skyscrapers. I looked up. I saw the building tops converging. They drew a beautiful pattern of shapes against the clear sky. The outline formed by the building edges was truly beautiful. No one had calculated it. No one had intentionally planned it.

I imagined life is exactly like this. People and things take up space. They use their energy. They use the weight of their presence. They even use their loud or quiet absence. A void forms between all of them. This empty space takes shape in a strange and unclear way. It is often, if not always, beautiful. It is beautiful because it is unplanned. It has no strict meaning or purpose. Above all, it is beautiful because it constantly changes. It shifts as people and beings forcefully claim their space. The void is left to the mercy of these "formed" things. It expands and contracts. It pulses with life and freshness. It is bathed in the joy of uncertainty. It shines with a strange carefreeness. Only those who let go of the need for meaning can truly feel this.

I looked at the void between the New York skyscrapers. It reminded me of poetry. Poetry needs much more than planned meanings. It cannot simply try to explain the lives of beings. It requires letting go. You must willingly surrender to the stray winds. To keep it short, you must leave the world in peace.

P.S. A confession, just between us...
I personally love living in this void. It is the space left behind by heavy things and "formed" people. There is more room to breathe there. The "breaths" are simply better.