View of Buddhist monk from behind, looking into a still reflecting pond

Sitting by the lake-side, life in stillness; Water so pure, so deep, that only reflections of all about attest to its existence. Looking down, look up into infinite skies.

Another looking up; Upon what skies do those eyes fix their gaze?

One lake, one being, twofold scenery; the sky fades far below But where lies the lake above?

When finally the web of intellect with knowledge hangs festooned, And all the strands of reason upon themselves return, Then know no more, but with some finer faculty, Believe.

To thyself call wisdom, Thine beating heart call love. Restraint in action Depth in thought Each step taken thus, though a thousand times returned, Call progress.

Then be unto a lake, where none will know thy depth, And shallow men will mere reflections see. Taking not, yet being filled; Seeking not, yet holding all creation; Diminished not, yet giving to all things.