KOSUKE MASUDA
The shape is no longer visible.
And yet, the oil clay never dries,
remaining as a single mass,
quietly breathing,
waiting for the moment when hands will touch it again.
Its presence resonates
with ourselves and with the universe.
Look deeply, and there are no true boundaries—
only a few elements entwined,
forming what we call this moment.
And then, as if to awaken
something still asleep within,
we move our hands,
we carry our steps,
gather around the table, share smiles,
place our hands together,
and pass the warmth between us,
guided by the quiet thrill within the heart.
A single ripple,
a single breath.
Light, too,
is here in its trembling—
both particle and wave,
holding uncertainty gently within its certainty.
And I, too,
am here in my trembling.
Both doubt and joy
melt into a quiet pulse.
And there,
beyond this single ripple,
an unseen landscape
slowly comes into view.