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