Like the rising sun burns away the morning mist,
burn away the fog
that settles into my perceiving and then colors my being.
Reveal the reality so well hidden—
that still, nonetheless, materializes before me now and again.
Just intimated, at first,
the barest of possibility—
initially insubstantial to the eye,
in color-filtered monochrome,
mere suggestion of contour and shape,
But the closer I get,
solidifying into real—
through the cloudedness—
beyond the apparent.
So burn away any contentment for which I might settle
with what seems to be,
to know what appears illusory
that is, in truth, the rock on which to build a living—
peering through the mask
of the appearance of what is,
to find the holy within the haze.