The hour is an enormous eye.
Inside it, we come and go like reflections.
The river of music.
Enters my blood.
If I say body, it answers wind.
If I say earth, it answers where.
The world, a double blossom, opens:
Sadness of having come.
Joy of being here.
I walk lost in my own center.
Octavio Paz, “Concert in the Garden”