Poetry

[solitary]

This isn't exactly poetry, more of a tasty thought morsel, but it seems to fit here, and I would like to share. It comes from the Jewish side of mysticism, which is my grounding point and personal gyroscope, so I hope no one is offended by the use of the masculine pronoun. Reference to the Creator is usually written or spoken by the term Hashem, which translates literally as The Name, and is not gender specific.

Hiding Destiny
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How did He make a world?

First, He thought to Himself, "I desire light. I desire love. I desire acts of kindness and beauty." And He saw that this was good.

Then, He made Himself forget that entire vision, blocked it from His mind, so to speak, as though it never was. And He made a world. As though that was the whole point, a world for the sake of being a world.

Only much later did He whisper in someone's ear, "Do you know the real purpose for which I made this world?"

Now you know why reality is hard and love is soft,
apathy flows with ease while kindness must climb mountains,
why light is always the intruder upon the boundless empire of darkness.

Yet, in the end, light is the hidden destiny of all that is.