The sense of the Presence of God
which the mystics express
is not simply a metaphor.
It is a sharp consiousness.
It is like the homing instinct of birds,
which defies denial or explanation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There is always instinct that lead us a way There is part of nature that make us think as yes existence and to observe is such a way its not a metaphor but a chain of witness and proves to be linked