And I am holding this strange universe– full of galaxies and tricksters –inside of mewhere it swirls and foams, forming and un-forming,all that is and is not yet,all that was and will be –I hold it for as long as I can each day,Until I panic and have to set it down.And make a cup of teaa cup of tea which also holds this strange universe,in clouds of cream and a touch of local honey,I hold it in my hands,as I sit,staring outat the landscape that spreads itself before me.