No root, no trunk, no stem, only these weeds; No path to travel, only lines of flight. No start, no finish, unity or seed, Only these thoughts that twist and turn, alight. And when the course is twisted and the root Cannot be simplified, then who are we? We are creators and Creation's fruit, We are this complex multiplicity. We are the thoughts inside the Maker's mind Yet we are circling where we do not know. We are towards Him, and in space and time, We are eternal in the finite Now. The truth is tangled and we cannot see Yet in the complex mass, the sovereign He.