Everything is allegorical, metaphorical,
true and not true at the same time
but if you spend too much on the seeming –
its enchantment and beauty,
the aptness of it, its sturm und drang,
its marvelous (self-created) synchronicity,
you’ll find yourself once again mired
in the enthralling labyrinths and blind alleys
of the mind, the maze, the path, the dream.
And it’s a wondrous dream –
far beyond our ability to fathom it,
with little profit in trying –
save to reach the end of effort.
Just imagine (but not too desperately)
the truth behind it,
the truth of the One
Who conjured up all this seeming . . .
out of nothing.
For us, for Himself.
O child of God, you remain (say the mystics)
the sole barrier between semblance and truth.
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