Wednesday Poem

Between Poles

Between the poles of the conscious and the unconscious,
there has the mind made a swing:

Thereon hang all beings and all worlds,
and that swing never ceases its sway.

Millions of beings are there:
the sun and the moon in their courses are there.

Millions of ages pass, and the swing goes on.
All swing! the sky and the earth and the air and the water;

and the Lord Himself taking form:
And the sight of this has made Kabîr a servant.