The Mystery is a darkness eyes
Cannot penetrate without its light.
Looking into its dark unseeing,
The unripened fruit blunders at night.
In the Mystery is a light not
Seen day or night by man or woman.
This Mysterious light warms the heart,
Not the face; reveals fate, not color.
Looking into the Mystery with
Eyes that see by taking things apart
And a closed heart that remains cold
Is the practice of blind foolishness.
The way followed by the wise is led
By an open heart and closed eyes.
The wise see by the combination
Of things that appear separated.
Thus the Mystery is at first dark
And in the end provides its own light.
It offers the foolish no path to follow,
Yet discloses its way to the wise.
PROLOGUE :: dark in the beginning