What chain or lock is there, that is not me?
I am my prosecutor, my defence.
I am my keeper and I have the key.
There is no great leap to some distant vision.
Make not your dreams your master, truly said.*
Tomorrow’s ends are in today’s beginnings,
This moment’s where millennia are bred.
There is no peak that is not its illusion,
While this real, nearer beauty goes betrayed;
This child, this friend, this so familiar blossom,
Jailers an ego-sick pretension made.
This leaf gives total promise of the forest,
This one ray tells of every arching sky.
There is no greater beauty for the seeing
That could out-rival this before my eyes.
It’s here, about me, all that needs be given
To speed the journey through an open door;
Reluctant ghosts of vanities behind me,
Some rediscovered innocence before.
* Rudyard Kipling