What, when Love takes hold and and lightens a heart laden heavy in darkness; happens?
The Unbelievable transformation -
That of which Gnostics attribute the changing of base metal to Gold,
and Hermeticists journey through Hades to pronounce.
The Complicated Simplicity -
Something so close, though, one could journey to the ends of the Earth and never find.
The body is a lock to which the key is buried in the Soul, and the possessor,
unless aware, would stumble clumsily through life, never having gained access.
Righteous, Upright, and abounding, yet so elusive; Love, the nectar of the Awakened.
To which, material payment of any kind is redundant, disrespectful and of utter uselessness.
This craven plateau of irremedial Bliss, sought, but rarely trod, is the Resting place of God.
To have, even the privilege of a glance, for the shortest incriment of time,
would overwhelm the senses of one not prepared.
Intelligence and willful curiosity, being the only prerequisites; seek and Ye shall find.
Confounded, the manipulative fervently inquire, unable to enter;
Saddled with impurities, their own defiled nature prevents the contamination of this Holy Platitude.
But cleansed of Heart, the humbled and meek, inadvertently,
superimpose themselves in this Glorious supposition, and dine with Creation.
Anticipation is the stimulant of the worthwhile, and when Love is the object of hunger,
a feast of irrefutable delights, banquet the spiritual loins of the famished.
Thirst, in its benign pestilence, bears no more opportunity for debilitation,
nd is satiated far beyond comprehension; the cup runneth over.
Love cures All.
How, when all else fails, and men no longer recognize the bonds of marriage or brotherhood,
does Love pierce the darkened veil of ignorance?
In its Mysterious light, and concentrated essence, Loves' miraculous sphericity,
imbues the bullish innards of even the most contancorous.
The operating factors, accumulated in feeling, garb themselves in explanation too abstruse for language.
To go in depth, would be only a frivolous attempt at abrading the superficial layers of a subject so deep,
as to be bottomless, that insanity could be the only outcome.
Poets and philosophers, venture but only so far,
before returning to the surface for rest; it is the burmuda Triangle of Happiness.
Love, like grapes, when fermented, is intoxicating.
It can be felt, yet not touched; it can be given,
but never held; it can be seen, though not with eyes;
Wantingly deliberate, Love renders inconsequential,
therefore, the profundity is not able to be understood; nor should it be.
Love radiates a light so spectacular across the spectrum of life, that the heart becomes the central Star,
around which the atoms that form us coalesce, in Perfection.
Love is the Immaterial, from which Matter and Man are formed.