Just Do It

Who can find a trace of you?
There isn’t even a bit of dust from your track.
Who could find your home?
You have no home.

How can I praise you?
What can I say about you?
Foam is the only form in the sea of meaning.

A great, unseen town
lies just behind that curtain.
Our world is nothing compared to that.

Don’t lower yourself.
Don’t knock on every door.
You yourself are what you are looking for.

O heart, raise your tent up to the sky.
Don’t say, “I can’t.”
Sure you can. Just do it.

Rumi

Editors note: think the title could catch on, might try selling some trainers with it.