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Does the wilderness surround us
or is it a far-distant space
toward which few venture?
Or is it ambiguous, shadowy,
always looming in indistinct forms
like pale clouds in a moving sky?
Is there a wilderness within me, within you?
Is it flesh or matterless?
Is it soul or soulless?
Does it visit you in your days or in your nights?
I hear the growls of lions in my dreams,
and as you hold me in your arms
I know, I feel the wilderness of love.
There in the middle section there is one chair.
Do not sit on it.
It has been already assigned.
When the sun sets and the moon appears,
there will be a new regime.