My Writings

Mystery is Honey

If I am destined to remain deluded, then let me be deluded in the right way. One thought after another, set me on a path of crumbs, throw me a rope of knots. Believing one chalice to be golden, then seeing it for the tin that it is, only to strike gold elsewhere. Pyrite, fool’s gold, but who is the fool? Well, that is me.

You said, no one comes back from your world. Drowning my face in the lake, I saw you on the other side. Grasping for air, I emerged again. They look at me, shocked. How many people do you see? How many fingers? Who are you? I am No-one.

Laughter at the obvious. I see the emperor naked. I see what they call an Offenbarung. Saw Him playing by the lake. I see that you are hiding something in your hands, show me. I cannot, He answers, that truth is inexpressible. Yes, but please try. You do not understand, it is best not to know, mystery is honey.

He says, you have always had a place at my table, from the day when you first tried to climb it. Now tell me about your pain, what ills you, let me hear it. I tell Him, Perhaps I served in vain.

I rarely deal in absolutes.

But that is impossible.


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