THE MYSTIC: The Mystic looks into the sky, draws a line from one star to the next. He understands, that his skin is like a leaf, that autumn will come and detach him from his tree, and he will fall to a brittle and dissolving existence. So he reaches his arms out, in praise and without understanding, but, ah, he does understand; he asks for recognition. And the stars wink like they do, fireflies in this massive jar, whirling worlds; he says, "I love you and you love me." And every particle rising in him, his chest, connecting to everything around him, his heart, rejoicing the timing of our earth, that slow growling movement; everything he was, was a part of everything else. And so, he thought, the profound thoughts of a mystic, he thought..."I have nothing to say."
Posted on: Tue, 18 Jun 2013 23:21:15 +0000
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