Look inside, look inside, the Savants

Say; outside all is dross.

But looking inside is, more often than not,

Just another case

 

Of finding the outside in the inside,

Making our peculiar place

In a world of thought entangled with

The outside world we face.

 

Indeed, in our deepest dive within

We carry with us the world.

There is no seed that does not need

An outer skin of pod.

 

No purveyor of profundity,

No supervening god

Finds release from expression,

Some splinter of the world.

 

And to be in the world is to be

In the worlds of other’s fretting;

The most of solitude is but another form

of the soul’s worldly setting.

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