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There is a pestering sense
That I walk towards something inscrutable,
Something at the end
That unlocks the mystery;
The center of something,
Just beyond the horizon,
Just beyond the next curve
And turn on the road.

At times I can distinguish it,
I draw near to the Center,
The “Center of Being,”
And then in an instant I am thrust to the outer barren edges,
Shielded only by Lunations,
As I am reminded the journey has only begun.

With every step,
Gazing the pathway,
I enter profoundly into the deep Unknown.
The distance becomes of little concern,
Time fades as I carry-on,
And then, just when I find myself once again on the outer edge,
The pathway towards the Center becomes visible.

As I step into its light,
The “Center of Being,”
I pause and rest in its warm comforting brightness.
I am in a place of holy refuge,
Enveloped by the journey,
Spirals that weave the passage,
And take me to the place I need to be.

And then, the pathway in,
Becomes the pathway out,
And I hear in the silent whisper of the Wind:
“It’s not over.”
And once again I begin to walk,
And I am reminded,
The journey has only begun.
©Wilfredo Benitez
January 29th, 2018

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