We seem to be sitting still,
but we're actually moving, and the fantasies
of phenomena are sliding through us
like ideas through curtains.
They go to the well
of deep love inside each of us.
They fill their jars there, and they leave.
There is a source they came from,
and a fountain inside here.
Be grateful. Confess when you're not.
We can't know
what the divine intelligence
has in mind!
Who am I,
standing in the midst of this