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enlightenment
August 2009 
the mystery of this
Posted on Apr 13th, 2006
by 
uncompromise
uncompromise
I cannot survive in this love, this unceasing torrent of indescribeable emotion flowing around me, over me, through me.
It begins as the gentlest touch, a whisper in a hurricane, almost lost amidst the infinitude of supplicating voices.
It has no voice of its own.
It is a gossamer thread winding through each of the others, creating a chorus from the cacophany.
It winds its way into me, piercing me, awakening me, a lover's breath passing through me, infecting me with its passion.
It robs me of my name and it blinds me to reason.
It takes these limbs, stiffened from a lifetime of disuse, and frees them to an ecstatic dancing - arms flung skyward in wordless devotion.
It shakes me, and I shake with the enormity of It, with the knowing that I and It cannot possibly hope to survive this dance.
It dances me out of my self.
I cannot ever hope to go home now.
I am Home, and no matter how far these feet may travel, I can never leave Home again.
I am the dust and the leaves and the clouds.
Like a newborn child I am without words, marvelling at this breath that I am, this vibrancy, this Life, this endless vastness which I am, and am contained by, inescapably impossible and yet impossibly so.
I am the mystery of This.
It begins as the gentlest touch, a whisper in a hurricane, almost lost amidst the infinitude of supplicating voices.
It has no voice of its own.
It is a gossamer thread winding through each of the others, creating a chorus from the cacophany.
It winds its way into me, piercing me, awakening me, a lover's breath passing through me, infecting me with its passion.
It robs me of my name and it blinds me to reason.
It takes these limbs, stiffened from a lifetime of disuse, and frees them to an ecstatic dancing - arms flung skyward in wordless devotion.
It shakes me, and I shake with the enormity of It, with the knowing that I and It cannot possibly hope to survive this dance.
It dances me out of my self.
I cannot ever hope to go home now.
I am Home, and no matter how far these feet may travel, I can never leave Home again.
I am the dust and the leaves and the clouds.
Like a newborn child I am without words, marvelling at this breath that I am, this vibrancy, this Life, this endless vastness which I am, and am contained by, inescapably impossible and yet impossibly so.
I am the mystery of This.
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