The Old Wisdom

When the night wind makes the pine trees creak

And the pale clouds glide across the dark sky,

Go out, my child, go out and seek

Your soul: the Eternal I.

For all the grasses rustling at your feet

And every flaming star that glitters high

Above you, close up and meet

In you: the Eternal I.

Yes, my child, go out into the world; walk slow

And silent, comprehending all, and by and by

Your soul, the Universe, will know

Itself: the Eternal I.

-Jane Goodall