THIS PHILOSOPHER'S STONE

THE MYSTERIOUS DUTY OF SILENCE

Silence speaks its sad duty to the lonely;
Its’ soft voice heard hauntingly loud.
Often does it whisper to the leper,
Whose worth is deemed as merely the untouchable.
Slowly, sadly, mystically, cogently,
It speaks also to the poet and the philosopher -
Mostly the stained scarlet lettered ones -
Each themselves now made curious listeners
Of silence' torture upon their soul.
It speaks to them of hurt -
Healing’ attempt to heal itself.
It speaks to them of dreams’ loss and pain,
As tho’ nothing but temporal wisps of smokes’ past.
It speaks to them of indescribable beauty,
As tho’ once known seems now gone;
Yet can never be left.
It speaks to them in dialog,
Having found its’ origin in what seemed monologue -
Awaiting their response -
It speaks to them of receiving the knowledge of giving
Which is Love’s only state,
Rather than the prevailing giving of knowledge without receiving;
For can a man masterfully use that which he does not rightfully contain.
Yea Love received is the first Gift of Love Life.
It speaks to them of the experience of loving,
Which inherently and inseparately also requisites receiving,
Which is love’s only fate.
It speaks to them of Truth’ Presence
Bearing Witness of Itself.
It speaks to them of Creation out of nothing – creatio ex nihilo.
And the poet and the philosopher and the leper knows;
Out of nothing emerges Everything as One.
Beyond the touch is Everything Eternal;
Resolutely, the voice of silence calls;
Gently is its manner - Caelvm non animvn
For those who attempt to cross its changing sea
Change is only the awareness of the sky reflecting;
Not reference to their unchangeable Spirit force;
It can not change.
Mvtant qvi trans mare cvrrvnt ignoti nvlla cvpido.
No desire can exist for a thing unknown,
What is it that I desire to know?
Is desire increased through knowledge gained?
Does knowledge emerge from the depths of sorrow and despair?
Ecce homo ipso facto – Behold the man by the fact itself.
Noli me tangere – Touch me not
For left atwixt this bewitching stone of silence,
Does this fettered pen again bemoan the fate of the lonely –
Again new vision summons me -
The poet, the philosopher, and the leper.
- igman’042510