In Praise of Mystery

To the unknown! The word alone, a single thought, and I may own excitement in a silence that prevails beyond all realms that we can know. Here it is that one must cower before a restless, nameless power, invisible, and in that bald identity a sweeping force, pervading reason, sifting consciousness with such divisive skill that any thought to step aside is fast dismissed. Rather it is there to feed upon; So basic is the fare the mind, however horrified, must move deep into the origin, picking it apart, hauling it to the surface, then confronting it. However that is not enough, for honesty demands the realm of mystery to be secure, to ride the wings of dreaming, far beyond imagination and out there to realize the quest will never touch the truth. I think it is the fuel burning in us--that makes us souls more than just organic things that spurn a reach away. But more, its quiet voice can probe into the secret places commerce never knew. Ah! that is why it shimmers there upon the precipice of all reality as I contemplate its faceless wonder. It must. I am its prisoner, and would not have it otherwise. It is as if it knows we need this darkness of vacuity for there beyond belief resides both pro and con, another total construct of creation and creator: all that is and everything that it is not. ~