There is so much knowledge which I seek
That often I am cluttered by my thoughts –
Of who I am and why I am here,
And how to honestly move through this world –
That I forget, knowledge is not wisdom
And that my thoughts are not reality.
What’s real is this stone that’s in front of me,
This stone that was once soil then river then tree,
And will become a thousand voices,
And will become the sound of Om,
But is right now a stone, rough and cracked,
Perfect in its size, shape, weight, and color
As it is – it just is – and that is enough.