A poem by Adelina Adalis.
A man about himself is still not clear, –
That is one thing in life of which I’m sure.
A man is like this oak , or ash-tree here,
Which from the depths broke through the
forest floor….
A man is not what’s visible at a glance,
Not what you feel, when hands on him you lay!
He came to know himself not all at once,-
But tramped, and tramped, and tramped
from far away….
From: The Tender Muse, Collection of Verse, 1976
Meditating into Happiness 