I met him at the place
where the lines of force converge,
he was singing psalms to the moon.
And his voice was like snowfall by starlight,
silent except in the heart
of my dreams.
“this is my song,” he said, “the song of my days
and of the spaces within and between.”
“Do I know you?” I asked.
“Do you know yourself?” he replied, “are
you a man standing on the path, or are
you the path, or just a blade of grass
beside the path?”.
I didn’t understand but I listened.
“If a child speaks to god who answers?
If god speaks to a child, who listens?
You have come here, following
lines of force, but do you know
who made them?”
“I am a seeker of knowledge,” I replied.
He laughed and it was the sound
of sun’s fire, “but knowledge need
not be sought, it is everywhere
do you seek also the certain night
that follows the day?
Knowledge is the shadow cast by your life
across the sphere of existence,
as certain and as sure as nightfall.”
I thought for a moment as he waited for my reply,
“I am hungry for life,” I said “and
seek a greater understanding of truth.”
This time his smile was like sun on ice
as he sat under the ash tree beside the path,
“truth is a wave that carries throughout existence.
it is both fundamental and relative. it is true
that we met here, but did I meet you on your path
or did you meet me on mine?
This is the beginning of understanding.”