Awakening

I have wandered blind in the black mirage of madness
And heard the thousand discordant voices of my unfulfilled desires.
I have grown like a tree whose roots were planted in chaos
And which grew upward towards what I believed was the divine.
But the very air I breathed taught me that I was wrong,
That the divine was here, on the substantial earth.
Now, each morning, when the mist dissipates,
I am present, without doubt or suspicion,
And, naked to myself and all that calls to me,
I arise.

And as the sweet nectar of the sun pours down
And the shadows of the trees and houses shorten,
And the moon turns drowsy and sinks languid into the blue,
And the birds arouse themselves with songs of fervent sass,
I say a prayer for the world that had once been veiled to me,
A world whose truth is far too vast
To know without first beholding beauty.