The flute of interior time is played
whether we hear it or not,
What we mean by "love"
is its sound coming in.
When love hits the farthest edge of
excess,
it reaches a wisdom.
And the fragrance of that knowledge!
It penetrates our thick bodies,
it goes through walls-
its network of notes has a structure
as if a million suns were arranged inside.
This tune has truth in it.
Where else have you heard a sound like
this?
This we know:
The earth does not belong to us
We belong to the earth.
All things are connected
Like the blood which unites one family
We do not weave the web of life
We are merely a strand in it.
And whatever we do to the web
We do to ourselves!