Sunday, January 10, 2021
The Seeker's Journal
The Seeker's Journal
There are many mystics
and each has his own design:
Blake and his Albion,
Yeats and his gyres.
Somewhere Buddha
lifts his flower,
the rishis chant their truth.
Christ rises again
and a yogi
dissolves in rapture
and pain.
We thread our way
among the labyrinths
of thought,
hoping to discover
the key,
the password to
the ultimate unnamed,
that which we are seeking
and do not find,
though we sometimes
catch vague glimpses
but are never quite sure,
until love grips us
in his implacable arms
and gives us a kiss
that has no words.
Dorothy Walters
January 10, 2021
