These people want to know who I am

These children of God

Drunk upon the fruit of ignorance

Want to know where I come from

These pearly dewdrops

That hang precariously from the

Blades of grass. I'm in them.

The lovely fresh orange blossom

Of the spring. I'm in them.

The silent songs of these timeless

rocks. I'm in that.

The age old scent of the

Cedars. I'm in that.

The sweetness that the mother's breast

Bares for the child. I'm in that.

The coyotes howling away their ancient

Sorrows. I'm in that.

Where is there for me to come from

Where is there to go

All has become stillness

As everything that's moving

And unmoving is me.