A life of pretense

A life of pretense                                                                                       
 
I have begun a life of pretense,
knowing now that I do not know,
 
can never know anything outside myself,
walking the tightrope of another kind of truth,
 
the One where there is nothing to hold onto.
Emerging from one dream only to find the elephant
 
as a whole is as false as its severed parts. 
A crucial life of pretense – any surmised
 
firsthand knowledge a deeper plunge into darkness,
a separation from the Essence.
 
Any whiff of certainty a sort of enemy
but not the real enemy
 
there being no real enemy.
O how words fail the poor poet!
 
O child of God, Meher was silent –
not for Himself but for his lovers.