A spot of fiction
I glimpsed the truth of the apparent world –
a shimmering ostensibility,
a reflection on the surface of a lake
floating thinly above the dark drowning
and the deep stillness that supports all the seeming.
The self itself a trick of light, moving as the sun moves,
no more when the sun goes under;
a spot of fiction from which to center
the illusory play of light, color and movement
as the sun journeys the inexplicable sky.
Every chance I get, I pay strict heed now
to this dream excursion
and to Your timely reminders to turn away,
turn away at every opportunity
from the apparent, the artificial, the fictitious surface
to leave myself possible and open for That which is beneath.
O child of God, hold out for the Reality
solely because it is Real.