Here are two poems, one from an ancient Welsh text, the other from a Sufi poet, thousands of miles and decades away from each other, revealing that same mystery of being in communion with the world.
I am the wind that breathes upon the sea,
I am the wave on the ocean,
I am the murmur of leaves rustling,
I am the rays of the sun,
I am the beam of the moon and stars,
I am the power of trees growing,
I am the bud breaking into blossom,
I am the movement of the salmon swimming,
I am the courage of the wild boar fighting,
I am the speed of the stag running,
I am the strength of the ox pulling the plough,
I am the size of the mighty oak,
And I am the thoughts of all people,
Who praise my beauty and grace.
--"The Black Book of Carmathan"
I am dust particles in sunlight.
I am the round sun.
I am morning mist, and the breathing of evening.
I am wind in the top of a grove,
And surf on the cliff.
Mast, rudder, helmsman, and keel,
I am also the coral reef they founder on.
I am a tree with a trained parrot in its branches.
Silence, thought, and voice.
The musical air coming through a flute, a spark of a stone,
in metal. Both candle, and the moth crazy around it.
Rose, and the nightingale lost in the fragrance.
I am all orders of being, the circling galaxy, and the falling
What is, and what isn't. You who know
Jalālu'l-Din, You the one
in all, say who
I am, Say I