To the Lighthouse: Yūgen (幽玄)

Yūgen is often described as a profound, subtle awareness of mystery—something partially hidden, suggested rather than stated, that evokes depths beyond explanation. Rather than revealing everything, a haiku embodying yūgen invites the reader to sense what lies just beyond perception.

For example:

silhouette

through the closed shade

a crow's caw

NeverEnding Story, June 17, 2026

Marion Alice Poirier

In Ls 1&2, the narrator perceives only an indistinct form from indoors. The closed shade establishes both physical and psychological separation, allowing the silhouette to remain vague and inaccessible rather than fully seen.

L 3 introduces the sudden caw of a crow, punctuating the surrounding stillness. Because the visual scene remains unresolved, the sound deepens the mystery rather than explaining it. The haiku evokes the unsettling sense that something is present but ultimately beyond our reach. Its emotional depth arises precisely from what remains concealed.

Two examples from my own haiku explore yūgen in contemporary urban settings:

silhouette

across storefront ATM glow

moths circling

This haiku approaches yūgen through a stark, modern cityscape. Ls 1&2 place an unidentified silhouette against the cold, artificial light of a storefront ATM, creating an atmosphere of isolation and concealed identity.

L3 introduces the restless circling of moths. Their repetitive motion echoes the narrator's lingering gaze, as if both observer and insects are drawn toward something they cannot fully comprehend. By never revealing who the figure is or what they are doing, the haiku resists narrative closure, leaving the reader with an enduring sense of mystery unfolding in the stillness of night.

beneath the billboard

a shopping cart of blankets

frost in the moonlight

This haiku evokes yūgen by contrasting the imposing scale of commercial imagery with quiet human vulnerability. Ls 1&2 establish a bleak urban landscape: a towering billboard overlooks a shopping cart filled with blankets, suggesting a makeshift shelter.

L3 introduces frost illuminated by moonlight, transforming an ordinary city scene into one of quiet, almost transcendent stillness. By never directly mentioning the person beneath the blankets, the haiku preserves their dignity while inviting the reader to contemplate the unseen life hidden beneath the coverings. The mystery is not merely about who is there, but about the unknowable depth of another person's existence—a quality at the heart of yūgen.