The Chosen

My mind anchored in the soil of reality
Yearns for its uprooting from this domain
Broad and wide the search to the answer
Presence of its promise by witness to others
Given the wisdom to its seeing, a gift to behold
But not from words can it be told

Floundering on this plain of mortality
Desperate to enter the light of its knowledge
Yet left feeling dismayed, not being of the chosen few
Those who have `eyes’ to its seeing,
Ears to hear its call,
Wisdom to know its reading,
Before death to incarnation, takes its toll.

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