"The tinest house of time"

In response to one of my recent postings (Four Great Powers) a friend sent me this beautiful quote as his comment: "And there is no object so soft but it makes a hub for the wheel'd universe...." W.W.

This sensitive seeing of the tiniest particular as central to the mode of universal existence—as somehow its hub, is reflected in the poetry of India’s Kabir:

Are you looking for me?
I am in the next seat.
My shoulder is against yours.
You will not find me in stupas, not in Indian shrine rooms, nor in synagogues, nor in cathedrals:
not in masses, nor kirtans, not in legs winding around your own neck, nor in eating nothing but vegetables.
When you really look for me, you will see me instantly—you will find me in the tiniest house of time.
Kabir says: Student, tell me, what is God?
--the breath inside the breath.
(translated by Robert Bly)