Real Road

There is no place for place!

How can a place

House the maker of all space,

Or the vast sky enclose

The maker of heaven?

He told me:

‘I am a homeless treasure.

The world was made

To give you a place to stand

And see me.’

Tell me, if the one you seek

Is placeless,

Why put your shoes on?

The real road

Is found by polishing,

Polishing the mirror of your heart.