Instinct

At once, a mystery and still crystal
         clear.


The mind does
         not reveal, but the eyes… or the mind’s eye. That tip of the tongue,
untranslatable, heart knowledge, given by the Giver of all good gifts. 


Transparent and elusive as water, carried to the
                                                      inner man, reserved for the one who
                                                                                                     will root through
 the rubble of his own encumbrances for the pleasure of He who discloses. 

                                                                         What organ
                                                                                   of sight should
we lean on? And whose understanding? You’ve been told, so listen,
                             hawk-eyed, wise as and gentle as. 
Both.

     The hour glass drips her sand, counted, waiting. 
But heaven’s been imparted in many languages, human formed.
                                                                                        Or not.
The master key defines.
                           In other words,
                          in other words.  The marrow within,
                           it knows,is familiar with enlightenment if but a
                                                                     glimmer.
The deep
                     searches the deep and wisdom is for the
                                   taking here.
                                       Instinct causes thirst.