Bowing Low to the Floor

Bowing low to the floor, banging my forehead, I thank you, for having, without knowing it, Become characters in my thoughts And living inside me, happy as larks. Many lives cross over in there, Like a cliff speckled with ants. The fates of those who fell into my field of view I pull out of the crack like tweezers. Dealing out slaps with my tongue, I climb into the essence of man and woman. There's no excessive bias in the line. For the sake of truth, they're not played down — The meanings, the images. In their combination Lies the essence of love, and the honoring of it. Through the prism of decisions taken You can see growth in constant wandering, In the eternal search for some truth, Which, like a ball, with skillful hands, Under a thimble, fidgeting on his chair, A sly, all-seeing sharper hides.