Adam’s child

The silence of the ages engulfs your being.

Extending its invisible hand, it draws back the cloak that has garnered your assumed identity,

the identity you’ve known since you could remember.

The cloak now drawn aside,

You stand naked before creation.

Shame could blanket you if asked, but it would be too heavy for you to stand.

No, naked you shall be.

You sit waiting…

waiting for what, you have no way of knowing.

In your waiting, in the silence, you hear…

emptiness.

Then at last you begin to hear…

hear fragments of a language so foreign that it seems instead, intimately familiar- a language that’s been spoken for so long that its presence has been forgotten.

Now, on this distant shore of remembrance,

you have ears to hear that which goes unsaid.

You stand in nakedness before creation

as one born from that very creation,

as one not with a life of your own,

but as one.

Not alone for there is no aloneness in which to be.

Where all is one and one is all.

Look and you will see.

Seek and you shall find.

Fear would bring you to safety if you wanted it to,

but even as you cast you eyes around looking for it,

you see it fleeing from this place,

fearful that it might perish if it were to linger any longer.

You want to make an offering,

to who or what you don’t know.

But that which you’ve received,

can live no more unless it is given.

Already it has transformed

and there is nothing to give but praise and gratitude.

The silence is all that speaks.

Louder than any word or thought could.