The way of a moss on a stone.
The way of a ship in a wave.
The way of a boy with a girl.
Now I’ve considered all these ways
and made contention in my thoughts
that all who sing beneath our sun
and all who snore beneath our moon
are just to be beheld, beheld in silence,
silence of the mind, but if the mind
descend into the heart and swell and cry
and cannot stay, then let it exegete
how love is most at home in puzzlement.