Sages, cranks, and lunatics, devotees
and lovers, see portents in the ordinary,
reflections of eternity, in yonder moldy
towers of dishes. Every glance confesses,
inflections and stresses—each act
signs a soul’s involuntary disclosure.
Sometimes something’s nothing,
but sometimes something’s everything.
Wisdom is knowing how to tell the
difference, but also when to keep silent.
_____
Nihal Singh