Strange Oracle

A boy who spoke as an aged man sat on a stump in the woods pondering. "If I were youth alone" he said, "you would not listen, or if I were age, you would defer a moment just to be polite, and then swing wide your soul ship's helm, your captaincy nirvana bound." Few undertook the forest voyage; fewer still saw mountain tops behind the trees, nor wisdom in the moment of eternity. They merely rested there upon the stump, for any consciousness of unity will cast out time and bounds, and destinations in exchange for glimpses of the truth. But they may seize exuberance in youth, or open patience in the aged visitor. One may detect beyond the mists a new reality unborn, undying, always there within, without a prayer, bedecked in joy--unseen, untouched, unqualifiable, the light of light eternally begotten, God from God and most would think, were he to jump out, then, it would be somewhat odd. I hear him, on that isolated stump, his mountaintop disguised... he is right, of course. There is no age entitlement for wisdom, and there is no journey, no arrival, nor decay. In truth, there is no "not" at all, to set apart the paradise of now. But he's a quantum jumping orbits quite without permission, quite without,indeed, a cause. And yet sometimes if we should look the other way, he does not leap at all. It's time to celebrate the little fellow, for he opens up our minds, our Bachs, our Michalangeli, before we ever even wonder why. ~