Mystical Mirror
I
Dusk’s silence gently drew my spirit toward the heavens
Where nature was revealing God’s great vision.
The sun was welcoming the night,
dressed in a brilliant robe of red,
Its stunning beauty reflected in the calm gloss of Abbey pond.
All this transported my heart to
the hall of mirrors,
To experience Truth in His image and likeness.
A first glance brought disbelief and fear,
But His gentle smile
evoked courage to pursue.
‘Who is this dead man in My own Image?’
The quest was nurtured by sorrow’s silence
To discover life unfolding
unto death.
Clasped in the hand of hope, we entered the valley of death.
Unfolding His scroll, the Teacher spoke:
“From the
beginning, did you not learn
Within a society of science and technology
That one must become independent, be self reliant,
Ever alert
to muffle your spirit’s cry for Someone?”
Fear and guilt, the potter’s wheel,
Moulding the man self-made, casting aside the fragile
dependent.
Soaring in achievement’s heights - yet satisfaction always elusive.
Cornucopia overflowing with the fruits of success:
Degrees,
roles, positions, publications, in endless array.
Everything accomplished in perfection, in awesome control.
Who would ever suspect
that death awaits its prey?
No time for reflection, for competitors are enslaved by the race.
Each pause for sleep, or food, or recreation,
begrudged as waste.
A straw me, created by compulsions, quickly dominated.
Each day to set an ever faster pace.
Spurred onward by approval’s
shallow applause.
An endless search for relationships to soothe the pangs of loneliness.
Stop and behold the magnificent facade!
My heritage, the prize of all my efforts, A monument dedicated to the strong and self-reliant.
II
Then – mysteriously - the monument’s
door opened.
In dread I entered.
Forbidding walls of damp blackness.
Cries of anguish filled the entire place.
A whimpering whine of affectionless
loneliness.
Fangs of hunger, yet famine embraced.
Howling cries of a fool’s wild rage,
Trapped in the shifting sands of illusion.
Breathless
sighs of guilt’s burden,
Multitudinous voices accusing of failure.
Rebellious outrage at life’s unfairness.
Self-punitive remembrances
in cursing outcries.
Ugly grooves etched upon the walls of caustic bitterness.
While thoughts from my head defended, my heart condemned.
The
outer man pretending as the inner man was dying.
The work of human hands creates an empty shell.
Is there any greater madness
than to build without Him?
III
In sorrow and pain did I behold,
Rubbing my hurting eyes. The Teacher reached for my hand.
His eyes
were moist with tears of compassion.
At that moment a new dawn broke upon me!
How marvellous the image in the mystical mirror:
A beautiful
sleeping child was now appearing!
All the while, He had been knitting me in secret,
Hidden from awareness. I could never desire the
real Me
Until Love gently touched and awoke the sleeping child,
Protected by that same Love until this time,
Hands clasping one another,
We
could enter our Father’s home.
Cries of rejoicing and gladness filled the air.
The spirit of unity stirred to embrace all people.
The
comfort of belonging animated my whole being.
Shouting, clapping, singing, dancing,
With music and movement hitherto unknown,
Celebration
and thanksgiving flowed like a fountain,
Just as He had promised that Life would flow within.
IV
Then solemn silence descended
upon me,
Led to a mystical mirror of indescribable beauty,
Revealing, imprinting, the Truth of who I am,
Seeing my image and likeness
in Him.
Brilliant rays of compassion embraced me,
Igniting a new and everlasting flame within,
Sending me forth to reflect this brightness
of His image
Amidst the misery, the pain and turmoil of our earthly life.
His compassion is ever present in open-armed embrace,
Endlessly
recreating the fullness of life.
Rebuilding, refashioning, restoring within His darkness of light,
Longing to proclaim love’s secret:
That within us all, His child is ever born again.
George Freemesser, October 1986
