Where is the separation between nature, art
and what we call ourselves?
Is it not all One?
Appearing in different shapes and colours?
Coming and going out of existence continuously?
Sometimes formed by the Master Artist on a world canvas:
moving earth this way or that way.
At other times by human creatures
with a brush or piece of clay,
paintings or pots,
more or less pleasing are the results.
In both cases, moved by forces and motives unseen.
All is One; one movement, one happening.
And all is a play.
A play of colours and light
of shapes and forms,
appearing in the Oneness.