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?
Life always begins again.
The Angel of Earth embraces the seed
And gives unto it Life.
The kiss of the Angel of Water
Awakens the seed.
The warmth of the Angel of Sun
Makes the seed grow.
The little plant bends in the breeze–
The Angel of Air makes it grow strong.
The little plant is holy.
It bathes in the Lifestream
Of Eternal Order.