For Amara at Seventeen

In the beginning
was the oneness
with the source of life;
the drifting in the eternal sea
of what was and is and yet may be.

The timeless age
of being without knowing,
ended by the flood of light and sound;
the chaos that is the symbol
of what is or merely seems to be.

Each of us is left alone
to search among the rubble
of the universe to craft a soul
which may serve us for awhile but of which
we must not become too fond.

For we must wander
knowing neither where nor why;
choosing an unknowable path and
following with whatever strength and grace
our handmade soul can muster.

On this journey
there is no map, but
no lack of guides to tell us what their blind eyes see;
offering their truth that they may be less lonely
on their solitary way.

And yet you
may find a way
to pass through this wilderness with grace;
a grace born of a heart which beats in rhythm
with those about you

And does not ask
another heart to change
its rhythm, nor another soul to dim its flame
that yours may burn the brighter in the
darkness of the light

It is an experiment
with no conclusion,
a question with no answer, an answer to a question yet unasked.
There is no destination yet the journey must go on,
passing from beginning to beginning.

And in the beginning
will be the oneness
with the source of life;
the drifting in the eternal sea
of what was and is and yet may be

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