The Tribes Of Knowing
There are many “tribes”,
Scattered far and wide,
In the Infinite Vastness,
Of This Incomprehensible Mystery,
Without center or periphery.
Each tribe holds fast,
To their own unique traditions,
Their own unique interpretations,
Their own unique descriptions,
Of “reality” and “Truth”.
Their Elders point to the Mystery,
Beyond the edge of their encampment,
And teach, with certainty and authority,
That it is thus, and thus, and thus,
And one should do thus, and thus, not thus.
We are born in and from The Wilderness,
In and from the Boundless Unknowable,
But unable to bear that Crushing Immensity,
Seek shelter and safe haven in “knowledge”,
In encampments of “belief” and “faith”.
And so the tribes of knowing are born.
I, too, have sheltered thus,
While Journeying this life,
Finding comfort and commiseration,
In interpretations and descriptions,
Of an Infinitude beyond word or concept.
The intellect took refuge for a time,
Until, in time, each time,
Knowledge and understanding,
However much a solace to the mind,
Proved unable to Fulfill the Heart's Desire.
At which time, in time, each time,
I took leave of this tribe or that,
And, offering gratitude and Blessing,
Walked naked, again, into the Wilderness,
Of astounded, lucid confusion.
And in that Wilderness without end,
Knowing nothing, understanding nothing,
Walking in Awe, breathing Wonder,
I Died of exposure…