And there lies truth, wisdom, spiritual comprehension, on the other side of the door. Here am I, looking through the keyhole. Along come those who are not like me - they knock down the door and charge inside. What do they find? Their own excitement, flashing and flickering around them. They think this is a great discovery. What do they have to take with them into the long, dark night? Nothing, nothing. I resume my position, waiting, knocking - my door is still there. That night is my tutor, its dreams, its slow passing. Then I need the courage of day, to follow the sun's long arc through the sky. If you will be keyhole to the sun's eye, then night's door will open to you in time.
And then I am like a king travelling a long road. Life is my jester going along beside. I'm glad for his long faces, his wry comments, his mock desire never to be like me. For he is me, and I the happy fool, not far from life, but too far to be sane, to take its seriousness for my own, to give up balancing the world on my head. A long road.
Jay
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