Beef Stew For The Starving Soul

Sometimes it is not in the illumination, but in the darkness between words where echoes the truth. Flickering shadows of perception cast by the glare of one who speaks with a burning candle… Little is to be gained from staring at the sun with a naked eye, but much can be learned from the marvel of photosynthesis and the life it nurtures.

Trying to speak softly, like the wind, bending around all your sharp protrusions with a supple grin. This pen yearns to weave it, sculpt it, that wanting for Truth pooling in the core of you, yet is wise enough to keep silence unbroken.

Aww to quench that insatiable thirst, that dry hot wanting of mediocrity, the undeniable aching need for epiphany. To bring gently to your parched lips the sweet nectar of Truth so that you can taste the words in your own mouth, bring them joyfully to another. Hold too, your aching heart in the palm of my calloused hand so tenderly, whispering to the scars “It will be better now.”

Oh yes the poet in me yearns to romance your ears with the music of my wet ink stains, but I know the wisdom cannot be told. Cannot be pasted on the wall in red aerosol nor tacked on to a few tawdry words and typed here on my keyboard. The Knowing is outside the window in the sky, the ground, the wind, waiting to put a shy kiss on your cheek as you walk from the shelter of an eve in the pouring rain on your way to the car.

The Truth is in the silence. When you sit quietly in the center of your own personal universe and look deeply into the darkness, you will see the pool of conscience that is your beautiful soul. All the heavy thoughts, those moments of understanding, the brief reprieves from apathy, have all settled into core of you, calm as still water. When you cast your inner eye to that benevolent reflection and see all that you will ever wish to know offering itself, you will have no need for an explanation.

To truly feel, to BE, is an epiphany of it’s own.


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