Where does he hide,
Underneath this mask of self;
Is it me, striving to amass some wealth?
Flowing from my heart,
My truth —
Dammed is this river red,
Thoughts bury essence, no steady passage,
I ruminate inside my head.

Where does he hide,
A formless being collects no dust,
Bereft of things, with rain they only rot and rust.
The water falls to wash away,
The memories of yesterday,
A boldness which has brought me here,
Look around and then look up,
The path ahead is far from clear.

Does he hide between the swaying trees?
Does he live amongst the stinging bees?
Perhaps he could find a joy like they,
Nomadic life,
Through travels they do seldom stay,
For all that’s needed, spirit fostered from within,
To face the world,
Uncover what has always been.

In shallow water, feet wade
Though planted firmly on the ground,
That’s not where he hides,
That’s not where he’s found.
Swimming further in translucent blue,
The sun, its rays,
They reach and pierce all the way through,
At once I thought I could not see;

My legs, they kick!
Afloat I strive always to be.
Perhaps he’s here,
I can’t be sure,
For who’s to tell the real me?
For now at rest,
A peaceful state,
Floating in the endless sea.