I lie in the night, engulfed by the sky and look to the stars'
inside. The stars that give light, to guide the long dark night.
The dark path is winding, through forest and thicket, with
thorns that prick you awake and blossoms that fell at your feet,
yet the soft moss to rest upon.
Awake! to the Spirit that summons.
The road that runs from todays trial, is not still the trail of tomorrow.
Like the maze that is Life, with a thousand paths. I look for a light,
a marker, a sign, to show where the paths unwind.
Try them, or rise above, to see. Just where they go, back and fro.
Crossroad after crossroad, the myriiad paths behind. They, like the
celtic knot entwined, lead you weaving, around and about, the
fabric of Destiny to bind.
I thought, to summon the Spirit; to call forth and compell, great
mysteries, all to tell. But, it is the Spirit that summons Me.
That summons We.
To seek what is outside, to find that which is within. To reach deep
inside yourself, for the vision of the distant Worlds, lost long ago
in time and space, yet with us still, in knowing, and in Being.
. . and so; like old Khayya'm, "I send my Soul through the invisable,
some letter of the after-life to spell," and some of what I found you'll see.
Come bring your Spirit here to seek, and find, . . . with me.