Is it in the sunlit meadow? Is it in the rocks and trees? Is it in the blue and yellow? Is it in the one who sees? -- This radiance I recognize, Even when I close my eyes Is it in the words you've spoken, As trackless in their flight as birds...? Is it in the silence broken? Is it in between the words? -- This living truth you make so clear The speaking stops, but still I hear And I cannot see how I missed this before Who I am is always here; of this I'm sure Is it in the circumstances? Is it in a quiet mind? Does it only come in glimpses? Is an event in time -- This peace, this peace that permeates My mind, my moods, these changing states Is it in your form that I hold so dear, Or older than your ocean eyes? When you walk away, does it disappear? Could it be so localized? -- This love, this love which no one claims You come, you go, but it remains And I cannot see how I missed this before The love we are is always here; of this I'm sure Is it in the sunlit meadow? Is it in the rocks and trees? Is it in the blue and yellow? Is it in the one who sees?