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.”
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