The Peasant


I sit crouched

At the feet of Wisdom

Waiting for a morsel

Of the Supreme Truth only She imparts:

The True Bread of Life

I wait for a drop

Of the Wine of Understanding

To moisten my lips

And silence my mind

I huddle like a homeless peasant

On a street corner

Who carries both his home

And riches


And wait

The ticking of eternity

Not enough to cause despair

For I am He

And I wait and watch

As yet another petal unfolds

And I drink the dew

From its silken lips

As a beam of light

Pierces a shadowed area

Still within me

And I begin to understand

Something I had knowledge of

But did not yet own

In my Holiest of Holies

And I cannot begin to cage

The flight of this bird of thought

Finally broken free

From my cage of cultured rationality.

And I see the door to the Real

And stand breathless on itís threshold