I quietly gaze into the depths of a forest
and see nothing save beauty and peace.
Birdsong fills my ears.
A gentle breeze brushes against my cheek.
Seeing from inside the seeing.
I drink the dark riches of the woods.
Would it be that every day
I could see my own face so clearly in these still waters,
And meet the emptiness which is also my very own heart -
that is carried in the boughs of pines and in the gentle
music of crickets.
Cass Adams
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