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
Within
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 it’s threshold
Right
Now.
---unAsleep