There is a basket of fresh bread on your head,
yet you go door to door asking for crusts.
Knock on the inner door. No other.
Sloshing knee-deep in clear streamwater,
you keep wanting a drink from other people's waterbags.
Water is everywhere around you,
but you see only barriers that keep you from water.
A horse is moving beneath the rider's thighs,
yet still he asks, Where is my horse?
Right there, under you. Yes, this is a horse,
but where's the horse? Can't you see? Yes,
I can see, but whoever saw such a horse?
Mad with thirst, he cannot drink from the stream
running so close by his face.
He is like a pearl on the deep bottom
wondering, inside the shell, Where is the ocean?
His mental questionings form the barrier.
His physical eyesight bandages his knowing.
Self-consciousness plugs his ears.
Stay bewildered in God and only that.
