Is it in the fresh wineglass
that shines smooth and hard,
empty and full of future?

Is it in the winter sky that
stretches pure and deep,
while our eyes seek infinity?

Is it in the hanging seconds
of awe and expectation
after the final chord?

Is it in the silence of the snow?
The turn of breath?
Deepest sleep?

Is it in the vacuum–
full of everything?