The Journey of The Fool

The Universe played a joke on me.

I wanted answers, even knowing they 

can hurt, because I know being scared

of The Unknown is worse. Not every book

is open-- ready to be read-- neither

is every story told in words.

We have to work to interpret the terms,

and you wanted to, so who was I 

to stop you? We would take to the road--

only a dirt path, in our case--

leaving home, or at least, our safe place.

You became more invested than I,

discontented with my guesses, and

convinced The Universe was on our side.

Within the ridges of copper stone cliffs,

amidst evergreen pines you scoured

for everything you claimed as ours.

(You told me, "Rightfully, we are 

a piece of all this boundless energy. 

As with any extension of the human body, 

it belongs to us.")

You counted ripples on the river,

reflecting on what waits to be perceived.

Refractions; each like its own temple

or tower, where the water 

teaches you through divination.

We're anticipating a reason --

for the wind in the trees--

but the universe believes this

insistence to be an act of treason.

One paradoxical guess. Instead,

You read the waves like they bled,

and I asked you why,

and you said, 

"The answers are out here."

I said, with a small change of mind,

"We don't need to know."

Your voice was clear when you explained,

"But we're all the time, waiting:

Elated by moments of divine

situated by the eyes 

gifted to us by insight.

The river warns me of suspension, 

or repose, awaiting unless we 

pursue the intentions of our mind.

You and I will try

to find understanding and answers

to questions directed by All

to Space and Time."

I told you, "It'll be fine

to be left unknowing."

But you were so sure

you knew where we were going.

So in following you,

I was truthfully a coward,

too scared of that river below,

even though it ran shallow;

that the tellings of the moving

mirror pool could be true

against all rule or reason.

Thunder boomed. I saw the clouds

coming faster-- like the river

down under-- their dangers; 

each equally a prison. 

"We should find cover,"

I said to you, my eyes squinting

and bleary in the wind.

You laughed at me like I 

was delirious:

"Then what would we discover?"

I knew better than to give answer

as from rock to stone we climbed

across the chasm hereby 

unwisely invented in the mind.

I felt the earth shaking,

I heard waves breaking,

I saw the sun hiding.

The picture was bending,

visions unending; even as

I closed my eyes.

Then: blackout. The only accountable light

as of a golden circle, only

one eye, in the otherwise dark.

Had the world been torn apart,

we could not have seen.

But you saw the weakness in me, 

and conceded my request to rest.

You read to me from the small light

as thought it were some sacred flame

because it's all the same to you.

This one had granted us warmth, though

we weren't in need. We nested between

fir trees, and heard birds come and go

as they, so clearly, pleased.

When recounting the message

from the flame to me,

you whispered to keep the world

from hearing our secret--

that we were searching. 

(I thought this gesture to be

endearing). I trusted your word 

for as far as I believed,

you're capable of infinitely more 

than me. I trusted you now, blindly.

Then I felt us flying as two,

farther from our questions,

and, so I had to assume,

moving closer to our truths.

We could now cast aside

the closing gaps of logic--

a strange change of events--

for now my heart was exhausted

and my mind was spent. 

My body felt absent, though 

abundantly present was my 

brimming soul, unbent and 

unbroken. In that moment 

I let myself believe in 

my own trust in you; 

in the whole universe, too.

I let myself give up the game

of guessing and reassessing

the same puzzle 

with many trillions of parts,

where every edge aligns

with every other.

From our flying I felt a breeze.

Now there was earth beneath my feet,

stalks of grass brushing my knees.

I could open my eyes, I could

see. There was lichen on the trees

who's bare branches silhouetted the sky

and looked like black lightning

scattering in the wind. These,

instead of crossing the clouds,

intended on reaching up,

replicating shapes of our veins and

inhaling the oxygen, and rain,

and static of the rolling storm.

Energy mimicked it's perfect form.

Where were we now? Almost a bluff.

I watched you kick up dust

and kiss a piece of driftwood,

before tossing it abruptly,

as though, in doing so,

it would tell you something.

But we were lost from our 

adventure in the dark. You

were intent on the journey 

at large. I could have asked

that we might turn back,

but by then, I was fixed into this 

journey, and learning with you.

So onward we went, with no

location to guide us, 

just your breathless and 

relentless invocations. 

The driftwood had given us 

an invitation to visit again

the cliff-sides, so we danced 

upon its ledges. Below, there was

flooding of the riptides.

Watching them felt like

falling into the storm's sky.

I lost my footing on a mudslide--

on slick, rich red mud,

I slipped and fell right 

into the spinning currents. First,

I had to fight, but I soon

loosened from my tight fear,

and let the clear water take

me under. It was dark again.

I recalled, then, that the river

coursed brown, not blue,

with all the dirt and 

mud running through. I 

crashed my elbow on the shoulder 

where the water bent and curved, 

and the peaks of waves spilled 

over the banks. The current carried me

faster than any car or train 

could ever, and I wondered where

you were; if I had left you behind.

I worried for you, though I knew

you wouldn't mind.

Now, within the river

was a clearing. All was

green and illuminated.

I felt like I could see

through everything.

Of course, I was confused.

And more so, I was dazed.

You were there, waiting.

"Where are we now?"

I had to ask. I could tell

you knew I had to ask.

And what you said next

made me feel like The Fool

for not sooner recognizing;

"You and I are the same,

and we've only always been

in one, never-ending place."

I had hoped you would teach me

as though you were ever somebody else,

but you might just be the universe, itself.

And your long-played trick on me--

that joke you made--

it was all part of this moment.

It will always be the same.