By: James Aitchison

When smoothly goes life,
stop to love and listen then,
take an accounting,
see the wreckage in the soul,
the chance to turn again and find
knowledge of all knowledge,
truth of all truth.
Walk outside of life,
for the blest ones
leave no footprints.
Step through the
human web into
the quiet lands,
in the half-real twilight
of the senses.