I see absolutes, like honesty and purity
In the edge of mountains against the sky
They hold the truth in their lines for me,
Their state of grace speaks of generosity,
They cannot get selfish and disappear in
Their own shadows, their form is too close
To reality, the place where Rumi goes,
They are, and I am, but I am also many things
That are not, I am never still against the sky,
No matter how hard I have tried, and I see now
I must stop, empty my cup and disappear,
Only then it is clear, I watch until I have words
As sharp as their slice across this sphere,
I am nothing if not the beauty that I see,
But I must love before I think of me.
