Travelers out of Time
There is no place you will go
That you will not find yourself alone.
Let the full weight of that realization
Surround you with terror and awe
As your familiar becomes a mystery
The more you try to convince yourself its not.
This garden of aloneness,
This is your sanctuary and your burden
As it is for all of your fellow humans.
This is your cry,
A cry of a child for its mother,
Only differing from another in the slight variations
Of your brilliant uniqueness.
Let your heart feel as different and separate
As you can imagine.
Let yourself fall into the weight
Of isolation and exile,
Until you feel the deep space of separation pull you
Far from the orbit of any other,
To the furthest recesses of your unimaginable solitude.
When you can imagine no further distance
Note how the silence still
Whispers your name,
Sweet and low
A name you have long since forgotten,
Whole and complete.
You are all travelers out of time.
You are all pilgrims.
You are all following the call of your home
You have left so very long ago.
Let your tiredness,
Your mantle you wear as identification,
Let it fall,
For the smallest of moments,
To be cradled in your invisible light.