Can it be that the mind knows when its reign is coming to an end? Does it know that something behind its lids is stirring, wakening to a broader vision? Is it possible to take the mind to the shore and gently set it adrift on the endless sea of the heart?

Is love a shoreless ocean no longer bound by cords of conflict? Does it carry the mind gently into its cradle of caress? Will it offer the mind a cushion against the grains of sand it has worried into a great pearl at last?

Are others floating on the heart as it drifts into the cosmos, a starry soup of ecstasy? Do they wave quietly as they go past in star boats of surrender, twinkling, in love with eternity?

I only know where I am.  In contemplation of the silent journey yet to be begun. The thick slabs of misery are breaking up like icebergs in an ocean of great longing. I only know myself to be a fool.

I am no longer young, no longer longing for a person in a skin suit belonging to the orbiting of desire. Instead I ponder ecstasy of a different order. Such stillness that listening itself is a useless act. Such depth that no one can sound it. Silence invites me to the dance.