In The Ancient Way

A single letter is written…
More letters form a word…
Words form sentences…
And sentences, paragraphs…

Paragraphs fill a page…
Page after page fill a chapter…
Chapter after chapter, a book…
And many books fill volumes.

Just so, “knowledge” is conveyed,
Concepts, theories, conjecture,
“About” the Mystery that we are,
And the nature of “reality”…

By those who “know” such things.

But in the Ancient Way,
Of the guru, the murshid,
No words need ever be spoken,
Or pages of scripture turned.

For in the most Ancient of Ways,
“Experience“ itself is Offered,
Wordlessly… Heart to Heart,
Through Love's Mystical Alchemy.

No instruction need be given,
No prescriptions asserted,
No frowning proscriptions made,
Only, rather…

The Loving Evocation of Grace,
Two Drunkards at the Bar,
Two friends, glasses empty,
As The Beloved pours…

And Hearts overflow.

Just so, the Bottle is opened,
And The Wine poured Freely,
From one Empty Cup,
To another…

By She who is both Wine and Drunkard.