Doesn't make it less wise.
This tree, for instance, you would
Never know it was even thinking
If it wasn't for the shivering branches
And occasional bend with the wind,
But it is moving vast tracts of mind
And holding on, for anyone
Who wants to inquire
Through their own inner knowing.
It's like the wood we call forth fire from
And the fire being comes, an elemental,
As our will of two sticks controls the flow
Of thoughts that show themselves to be alive
Communicating the absolute in infinite
Permutations of the wildness of spirit
Deciding what is from what is not
Or appears not to be, what a cloak it is,
Invisibility, like that silence thing, for us
To keep poking or to look away, a choice.
That's why you strip down naked,
To find what's hidden.
