at the gates

of mystery

by Roberto Lavidez

faced with

a tabula rasa

on which one

can write

what he wants

knowing the

essence of

words

things and

thoughts

appearing

from within

the fathomless

and boundless

undercurrent
it runs without
mixing its purity
with the heavy
waves of 
dogmatism

creating

something

of oneself

outside

of oneself

one must

study

to know

know to

understand

understand

to judge

though we 
cannot

force things

to be other

than they are

can we?

comparing

cheeks to

rose petals

and hair 
to silk

reason is a

clumsy weapon

of the left

hemisphere

which might

have delighted

all scribes

but whatever

road we take

it is just as if

we have not

moved at all

the visible

universe

becomes

disintegrated

its material

dispersed

interwoven

tale of toads

you throw out

the window

leaving history
far from being

complete in

the miserable

remnants of

books

disfigured by 
exaggeration

and inaccuracy

our collective

sentiments

diffused

ambiguous

and obscure
there is no
voice which
speaks to us
in an imperative
tone

no password

to cause

the gates

of mystery

to swing open
and expose

the interiors

of imagined

libraries

and temples

purposely

veiled

so as to

half conceal

and half reveal

the truth

the seeker

deciphers 
what may 
well be 
the equivalent

of another

complex

ancient 

language and 

he ends up

appearing as

a stone

solitary

and alone

©robertolavidez2014