Suddenly, meal. Emptiness filled.
No planting, growing, harvesting grain,
no farmer, miller; it simply appeared:
Let there be meal! And there it was.
Show me that moment! Feel it I must,
and finger the monad in midst of emergence.
Then shall I know how meal and oil,
how loaves and fishes once. . . .
But what of today, of here and now?
Removed am I in time and space
from elemental source? Or am I
face to face this very moment
with ceaseless flow of pure ideas,
fashioned in form and color and grace,
unfolding in fact, not fancy, a feast—
no wonder the barrel can never waste!
