Being is being

You once said to me: 'being is doing',
And I could feel how true it was for you.
Each moment met with presence and renewing,
Each moment alive with something fierce and true.

You meet the world by moving through the day;
A ringing bell, struck clean in morning air.
But in the hush, when ringing fades away,
Have you not felt a light already there?

The space between the notes is not just lack.
It sings its own, unstruck, eternal tune.
No sound remains, no path to wander back.
The bell and ear dissolve into the noon.

What you have called a path, I find undone.
All acts arise from me, but I am none.