A little light came in today.
Remarkable, it has been day time all along.
There is no wisdom to be got without struggle and the passing of fruitful years. They age quickest when permitted first from the inside. Approach representation and discover things for their essential elements of dust and intent and how they co-operate with the Entire. Flow through each experience undisturbed and go to your point neither shrinking from the unknown, nor clinging at the past. Leave things where they lie and be done with it there. You are the keeper of your state, on this pilgrimage to the shadows.
Maybe we are all a series of frayed smiling faces, suspended in photographs of a time we were all together and happy, headed toward the same end of the road we could not imagine, where cannot memories pass or togetherness survive. These were golden times, before the revels dried up and the bitumen ended and we had to stop and turn around and suddenly go home our separate ways, lost and alone to spend the rest of our days trudging forward, broken and looking back for each other.
I could leave Earth and soar the open sky for the rest of my days. Hurl toward the brink untroubled, drifting home on a stream. I could circle the clouds for eternity, calm, free and satisfied. Pause to bathe in the cold suns magnificence, and drink the breeze of heavens sighs.
But I could not love you more.
A gentle wind reminds the heart of its wings, and by degrees draws an idle travellers musings again to contemplate the horizon.
Whose curiosity of the world has managed to withstand the training in apathetic contentment, will eventually return the long way home to where wasn’t good enough before, and concluding this is all to be got of travel.
If you chance reside near the ocean, a shimmering freshwater basin perhaps, or some sparkling sky-blue inlet stream brushed with the green-apple tips of Willow that whisper in the Springtime breeze, and stir with timid charm the clear and delicious waters passing underneath through which the pebble floor and all animation of life therein is visible, into the shade of an Arcadian dale. Bubbling liquid of the purest dreamable state drawn and descended of lofty snow-laced spires which address the very cloud-scape grounds call angels home. Well, have you then at your grace, wanderer, a fount of the finest available natural sustenance known, and necessary wealth, of which you too are mostly comprised, sufficient in one gratifying instant of submersion to dissolve your cares and quicken the spirits there back to ambrosial health and exquisite humour. The holy sinking sensation of being one and relation to Nature, suddenly home and alive again.
Son, though you know it not, soon a great peace will befall your searching soul. A realisation you will not recall as one event but as having occurred in fragments over a duration, dotted yet of many pangs to come along the approach. The days of life are many more, and you will not grow old ascending always your mountains but I promise, you are surely being prepared to receive the love you cannot find, and a most heavenly glade you will someday simply happen into, finding there an everlasting contentment with all the pains that have passed and blessings most brief that braid every lifetime. A place to which there are no directions, where the summits shadow does not access and we are all here waiting. You must have faith you are coming home all along.
He enjoys an atmosphere of increased benevolence, by virtue of composed and impartial study, who perceives in all matter and events, the dynamic and natural system of symmetry that cannot one a pebble cast without scratching the sky, or breeze through a meadow with his palm and not some distort after leave; the miraculous conversations of being are company plenty, and on that which his look last rests, resides he wholly there home and secure.