You are standing here with us, but you're also out walking in a field at dawn.
You are yourself the animal we hunt when you come along with us on the hunt.
You're in your body like a plant is solid on the ground, yet you're wind.
You're the diver's clothes lying empty on the beach.
You're the fish.
In the ocean are many bright strands and many dark strands like veins that are seen when a wing is lifted up.
Your hidden self is blood in those, those veins that are lute strings that make ocean music, not the sad edge of surf, but the sound of no shore.
The Diver's Clothes Lying Empty by Rumi
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