In the pouring forth of wisdom
all things have their being;
wisdom in my shining,
wisdom beyond me shining.
All things are branches
of the Tree of wisdom
wisdom in me growing,
wisdom beyond me growing.
In the circle of being
all things share a blessing;
wisdom in me turning,
wisdom beyond me turning.
Lord, not you,
it is I who am absent...
I stop
to think about you, and my mind
at once
like a minnow darts away,
darts
into the shadows, into gleams that fret
unceasing over
the river's purling and passing.
Not for one second
will my self hold still, but wanders
anywhere,
everywhere it can turn. Not you,
it is I who am absent.
You are the stream, the fish, the light,
the pulsing shadow,
you the unchanging presence, in whom all
moves and changes.
How can I focus my flickering, perceive
at the fountain's heart
the sapphire I know is there?