avevale_intelligencer

We huddle around our campfire,
bathing in its light.
The fire is not truth,
And the light is not truth,
But we could not see truth without it.
Around us presses
The darkness of the unknown,
Thrown back for a moment
By a flicker of the firelight
Then returning again.
When the fire burns brightest
We glimpse the edge of the clearing
Where the unknown
Becomes the unknowable.

Take a brand from the burning
And hurl it
And for a moment
The darkness is driven back
And maybe
A path will be revealed.
Take a brand from the burning
And carry it along that path
And start a new fire
Which is part of the old fire.
Take a brand from the burning
And dance in the darkness.
Or, if you will, stay
Close to the flame
And ignore the darkness.

The light is our seeing.
The fire is our looking.
The fuel is our will.

As the fire grows
The clearing grows.
The unknowable
Becomes merely unknown,
And the unknown
Becomes known.
And if our will hold good,
One day
All will be knowable,
All will be clear,
And then
We may see the sun.