If you could know that all the time the world would ever have is in the moment now in which you stand, that in your hand the future's bent and all the promise of the past's intent is held, would you not wait and listen and be still? Would you not let such mystery poured from unimagined source fill and fill and finally overflow the moment, until you, a living fragment of eternity, hear its measured beat and take its temp for your heart and hands and feet?
We are a unity in our diversity
Jewels in a very large web
connected by "Mystery"
But "Mystery" the same for all
but called by different names
The name may be the limit
that tears the strands apart
of the web
connecting us in it.