I was many,

many I am.

Everywhere I’m roaming,

seeing, feeling, beholding,

meeting myself in strangers faces,

meeting myself in words and phrases.

Yet I’m complete,

yet I’m missing.

I am a whole lot of worlds,

yet to be discovered.

I am  many, much and a lot

where I go I find me.

Yet I’m a lone,

yet I’m here,

yet I have lived,

for a thousand million years.

In stillness, In harmony,

In everyday irony,

I am one and one is many,

for one is none outside of the Beloved.

Believe me when I say,

I met you before,

before and everyday is just

once more.

Amazed and bewildered,

carry myself splintered,

I see myself rise,

live long and die.

But death is not an absolute,

I live long and many,

I die like one and any.

I’m humbled by all that within,

within and without, is all from my feeling.

Yet I’m a lone,

yet I’m here,

yet I have lived,

for a thousand million years.