It is an old design.
Entering into itself
The self is lost:
The same each time,
Emptiness turning in a single line.
Quiet and darkness. Let it all rush in!
There is a hush beyond the edge of things
That you may catch by letting go. Leave off
Following the old sun for a little while.
Within, there is another; to the source
A quiet brother, humming as you hum.
It was for this that you found what you found,
Sun of the belly, perfect, webbed, and round.