I stumbled across this poem, tingled and glistened in resonance, and so pass it on:
‘The same stream of life runs through my veins night
and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.
It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust
of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks
into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.
It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle
of life and death, in ebb and flow.’
Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali (Macmillan 1912)