The part is not separate from the whole.
The dead and the unborn are always with us;
like sunshine in a leaf,
like vapour in the air.
They permeate our substance.
What we see is a memory of trees, within us
a premonition of blue skies, within us.
The boundary of skin is illusory .
There is light at the center of each cell
and restful darkness too.
The flower is in the seed
and the seed is in the flower
without beginning or end.
Everything has already happened.
We review the movies over and over
till we are done with
all the possibilities.
Till we realize
Cosmic winds blow through us
and we are the still unmoving center
that contains it all.