Those to whom it has revealed itself
– grazing in a grove of trees,
a ray of morning sunlight
lighting the dewdrops on the mossy grass;
or galloping, white mane flying in the wind,
over the high green hills;
or briefly glimpsed, shining-eyed
between the white-spumed waves –
they bring back with them, the experience
which always will be theirs;
some place of inner peace
to which they may refer all the events
of life; so that, like some shaken bright kaleidoscope,
all falls into its place.
Some never speak of this; some see no reason not to speak;
and risk response: thus, some envious, as ‘why not me? ’
some, just curious; some, eager to hear all,
as if they always knew, or ‘thought they guessed’, that it exists…
Even spoken from the heart, words live a life that’s perilous:
some who are so fortunate as to catch it there
in that sacred grove of trees, and on whom
the unicorn bestows its glance, as eye to eye,
speak of a softness, of a sweetness; some
say, it looked into my inmost soul;
some simply fall in love with their true peaceful self;
some speak of being so at one with it,
that all the world is ever one: so that,
its glance bestowed on them, their every glance
henceforward, sees that unity in everything.
some speak of it; some hold it in
pure silence of the heart, and live it
in themselves, as if
they are its children in the world;
their glance, as sparkling eye meets sparkling eye,
will tell us all we need to know
that moment when we know
that there is something which we know, have ever known,
but knew not what it was until
– like some glimpse of the unicorn,
here, now, always; one glimpse, one glance,
and its work done –
we know we know
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