There is not in me that now
Which once was;
Neither a sunrise nor a sunset
Neither the stars nor the moon
Neither a smile nor a bookstore
Make me halt in my tracks;
Nor do I care to retrace my steps
For something or someone in memory;
Advancing in the years I am
Without knowing where I am advancing
Nor knowing
Where I need to advance;
And yet
Where can the pot go
Except into clay
If at all it was ever separate from it.
Know Thyself 