You look at it, but it is not to be seen; Its name is Formless. You listen to it, but it is not to be heard; Its name is Soundless. You grasp it, but it is not to be held; Its name is Bodiless. These three elude all scrutiny. And hence they blend and become one.
Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds’ wings.
God has no marks, colour, caste, and no ancestors, no form, complexion, outline, costume and is indescribable. He is fearless, luminous and measureless in might. He is the king of kings, the Lord of the prophets. He is the sovereign of the universe, gods, men and demons. The woods and dales sing the indescribable. O Lord, none can tell Thy names. The wise count your blessings to coin your names.
