The mystic

The true mystic is a lion
with the face of a kitten.
Only his own kind know who he is.

He speaks in the softest words –
so soft, their name is “silence” –
yet his tone resounds for days.

He is a presence without presence:
a stillness full of motion.
While seated, he soars;
  over water, he strides.

Like an invisible wind
you never see him, though
he works to great effect.

Eating little, relishing everything;
he never argues, but always wins.
His life is a happy contradiction.

The people think he is nothing –
a kind of innocent child –
to which he whole-heartedly agrees…

For it is this very nothingness
that makes him great.