Alone in This Fullness

I sometimes feel so alone in This,
For there are neither words to express,
Nor ears to “hear” of this Wonder,
This Fullness, Completion, and Bliss.

Even those closest to me, knowing me best,
Seem to hear only words, and imagine concepts.
But I see no spark of recognition in their Hearts,
No Flashing of This Ancient Flame.

Only those with an ember,
Already alight within,
Ignite in a Flame of Recognition,
To their own astonishment… and mine.

These words will only touch their Heart,
If it is already pregnant.
And how will they know,
The baby will kick.

You cannot choose who will turn to you,
Often the last friend you would expect,
Often the least “spiritual”,
And ask, in Wonder, “What is this?!”

Why some Illumine, and others don't,
Is a mystery beyond reckoning,
As is the Bliss of our Own Aliveness.
We're all Idiots in this Play.

And therein lays our Wisdom.