It Loves To Hide

Its streets I walk.

Listening not to me

but to nature's duende –

nothing can equal it.

Before my eyes

what is

naturally seen

precisely is

wordless

penetrating its mystery
infinite aspects of it

cannot be named

but swirling

is a sublime poetry

in everything 

forged from it.

. . . . .

In our sense perceptions, if we are not sure of what we see we change our position while looking, and what is real becomes evident. In the inner life, time takes the place of space. With time we are altered, and, if as we change we keep our gaze directed towards the same thing, in the end illusions are scattered and the real becomes visible. This is on condition that the attention be a looking and not an attachment.

– Simone Weil