Being

As one who sits upon a hill
The sides of which are steep,
At night, I pause to get my fill
Of all-refreshing sleep.

No sooner, though, than I awake
Do I arise anew,
And then I’m like to move and shake,
And that the whole day through.

Yet, while it seems I’m taking part
In some capricious game,
There’s joy and laughter in my heart;
Each moment, I’m the same.

I’m everywhere all in one place,
At once the core and outer space.

Photo by Marek Szturc on Unsplash

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