Enlightenment

The mystery happens everyday,
    Like getting up to see the day,
Will I let the magic work,
   Or simply grovel in the dirt?

All is really of a piece,
   What's excluded haunts my peace,
 Perfect and imperfect fight,
   Only if I miss the light.

Every story and event
   Needs relieved of grave intent,
 Things are given write the specs;
   "Commit to living, not effects."

Today I'm this tomorrow that,
   Enlightenment's both this and that.
It's not a place or goal for each,
    But a bridging of a breach.

A leap into a vast unknown,
   That widens further on it own,
Yet joined to me as all is one,
   Although the mind stays on the run.

A channel opens through us all,
   When I remove the inner wall
That keeps a lock of heaven's gate
   And set a boundary to my state.

A nameless all unites as one,
   The cells within me to the sun.
Can I know what is the goal,
   If I keep others from the whole?

When conflict dies within my heart
   And wanting finds a better part,
The world becomes a giving tree
   And I its fruit that makes me free.

For all is one great interchange,
   That lives the value as we change,
That's the view within my ken
   If I but flee my self-made pen.


                                                                 --Thomas D. Stanks, Book of
                                                                   Mystical Poetry, Volume 1, 1995

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