I have no taste, yet I am the quintessence of all your tastes
I have no face, yet faces appear because I am
You cannot trace me, I do not come from somewhere
I carry no voice, yet everything audible is my fairytale
I'm not a flower but my fragrance sparkles in your garden
I'm not a thought, I'm always beyond it.
Your breath is my temple, in which I pray without utterance
I dream in your body, but I'm not perceived in this dream
I whisper the sweet words that come to your mind
I'm the hand that writes beautiful poems,
Although I do not move, I simply Am.
I have no content, everything contains me
No origin, I'm here whenever
I'm the brush that waters and sketches shades in your paintings,
I conduct silently the orchestra playing "The World".
You may think you recognize me in this verse,
And label me as one thing or another,
But I'm only the space in which all these attempts nimbly crash
I do not need or wear a name, isn't this so clear?
Release all search for me through your mind,
Lies simply get absorbed by the plenitude of Truth.
Topic(s) of this poem: life, mystical, philosophical , spirit, truth
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.