What Is

What Is

This poem is about mysticism and the present moment.

I met someone who told me once
The hour of atonement thus comes
Without hesitation, without ransom
Redemption of our own prodigal son

It was hidden in plain sight
This you won’t admit until the long fight
To the very last of the splendour of life
The gateless gate to the abyss of night

Who do you think you really are
Discover and you won’t get far
Turn around and it escapes you
Reach for it and it obscures you

The many forms it takes
The polar opposites it creates
We once were lost but not indefinitely
Do not take it seriously, only sincerely

The truth is obscured by illusion
Was it our making or just an infusion
Of something other than our own volition
Do not be deceived, for then comes completion

If you can see reality as it is
An inevitable goodbye to the long gone world
This point of view comes with a kiss
And the bare facade is then aside hurled

What every book leaves out of its pages
What every teacher and all the sages
Cannot say directly without a mystic
Is the fact that we are nondualistic

All the words will not be able to describe
What there is and always will be
Does not matter to what we ascribe
They fail without exception to see

So cast aside your notions
Lay aside all your expectations
Simply have a presence of mind
And witness the present without bind