I know now the beloved has no name
describing her. I know that she is not
the body that I see nor the fragrance
that fills my lungs. I know now the beloved
has no station, is unlike the clouds
and mountains, unlike the rivers and sky
that have no limit. I know the beloved
isn't this or that elaborate system
of confusing propositions, I don't
want to have a theory of everything
or feel I've solved the mystery. Beloved
is a friend surprising me, is air
that moves about me, spirit I exhale
as only love into a turning world.
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