The Oracle.
Our soul is like the night sky: vast, profound, ancient. It is a map where stars and full constellations can be found. To find it, one must have the silence and stillness of the dark, cause the warm breeze of a summer night is Her language.
The Oracle
Oracle, pilgrim,
Your eyes see beyond time,
beyond paths,
beyond miles.
They see what has not been seen
in unwritten words,
while resting in the embrace of twilight,
who welcomes you.
And under Her dark luminous vault
you perceive,
as if witnessing a secret,
the murmuring of birds gathering
in the olive trees.
They whisper old whispers,
As you contemplate the sacred of all.
Before the light, was darkness;
mute, unwavering,
impassive.
Before the chaos, there was silence;
impenetrable,
absolute, incorruptible.
Before the Choir of Angels,
there was the Note;
grave, magnanimous, inaudible.
And before it all,
there was what Is.
When the sun was born from the fire,
long before that, She lay.
At the heart of Her firstborn,
is a mantle of stars
A message read at dusk
when speaking means silence,
silence means witnessing,
and witnessing
means
Seeing.