The ocean way is the fish way
of the watersouls of fish who die becoming the sea.
Fish do not wait patiently for water.
In this world full of shape,
there you are with no form.
You have made a universe
from a drop of my blood.
Now I am confused.
I cannot tell world from drop.
My mouth and this wine glass are one lip.
I am Nobody, the fool shepherd.
Where is my flock? What shepherd?
When I talk of you, there are no words.
Where could I put you, who will not fit
in the secret world, or in this one?
All I know of spirit is this love.
Do not call me a believer.
Infidel is better.