When you were rain, a part of you
returned to the sky in a steam
of glad evaporation.
As a cloud, you floated aimlessly,
imbued with a god-like perspective,
escorted by the atmospheric winds.
Another part of you soaked down
into the deep ground, enraptured
in the bliss of not knowing.
Once you roamed the sky heaven,
but where you are now exceeds
any pious religious allusion.
This dark and womb-like intimacy
is settled, solid, silent, profound.
In its depth, nothing is required.
Things begin and end above,
but here below time is different,
the present is more the future past.
At rest, at peace in subterranean trance,
stunning jewels are no different than
the humble rocks you seep around.
When at last you sift out into the sea,
how many watery clouds of yourself
will have appeared only to vanish?
As much as anything is true,
above heaven or below earth,
you alone are the Exalted One.