There are no roses in my yard: what wind brought you?But I suddenly come from far away. I was sick for a moment.No wind whatsoever brought you now.Now you’re here.What you were isn’t you, or else the whole rose would be here.
Alberto Caeiro, The Collected Poems of Alberto Caeiro
being, clarity, existence, god, it-is-what-it-is, life, moment, paganism, pantheism, rose, truth, wind