And the human heart is not personal: the more we fathom our own hearts, the more we find there the being of others and, beyond that, the very heart of the world itself. —Reginald Ray, “Looking Inward, Seeing Outward”
I ask
the world
to open me
and fling wide
both arms—
and the sky
rushes in
and my eyes
are guided
to find
my heart
hanging in trees,
strewn in an ant hill,
painted on a rock,
and everywhere
I am, I am not.