Answers to questions asked remain a mystery unto all.
Although, while in search of them, some may hear the call
of the wind as it whispers an invitation to come out and play
and a gentle soft assurance that everything must be this way.

Energies flowing freely from opposite ends of the cosmic pole
dance just beyond the limitted grasp od Man's concepts of control
and shall remain this way until we open our hearts and eyes.
unless the mind is set free, the soulsurely shrivels and dies.

Trudging through all we do can make it difficult to see
that with no sense of balance, life is more a burden than a journey
toward that timeless place where all must gather to mesh.
It is there that soul is forged into SPIRIT by the fires of the flesh.

All of our illusions of death and our fear of emotional pain
is exposed to the light, when truth is made simple and plain.
Only now may an honest union of consiousness and matter
occur and allow the binding of what once would merely scatter.

Onward we travel now, into a new age of comical cosmic understanding.
The laughter of angels proves to be the universal language, ever expanding.
so simple it is in substance, that we tend to overthink or overlook it.
Someday though we shall laugh at ourselves for how long we mistook it.

Shackles which bind to this earthly plane can imprison us no longer.
The lifeforce that drives us has now crested within, infinately stronger.
All storms have been weathered and somehow we still survive.
Blessed be those that see that it is MAGIK to be alive.

a poem by Donald Wilfong