our deepest being is that which observes:
which watches, far beyond all forms of thought,
as hand and tool and all the senses serve
to find and make new things; or shine at sport;
which watches its own stillness in deep peace
and knows it knows, yet knows not what that is -
except that in this being is release
from all that's not; a peace akin to bliss.
There may be further being yet to be;
but in this present observation shines
a world that's fresh, and bright, and new, and free,
which fills the heart with joy, and clears the mind.
If we should doubt that we know 'self' or 'soul' -
that one, who's still, and knows 'I am', tells all.
Fine brushwork, nimble hands. you have a habit of sneaking 'that being' through but you do it in the most open, accessible way. This reminds me of one you posted the other day...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very Good metaphyical poem.Thank you Michael.