When there is only God,
there is not even what is not He.
If I reach to touch that Ocean
it will be a hand of watery form:
that Ocean caressing its own waves.
Of what use is all this striving,
this development,
if my longing is already satisfied?
It seems there is a beauty to growing,
and this is why we grow:
that growth befits His Name "The Fashioner".
Then, even my movement, my stillness,
is a thing of service to Him.
As for me, myself, alone -- this not-me --
there is neither need, nor place, nor movement:
only He.
