They say the path to liberation
Leads through valleys of utter despair
And over peaks of glorious wonder.
If you risk the journey, beware.
 
Our thoughts don't always reflect reality;
To us an idea that clearly seems
So real and permanent is really ephemeral
And creatively sculpted from notions and dreams.
  
Our thoughts can tantalize or torment us,
Depending on our state of mind
Or how attached we are to ideas
And concepts that we've proudly enshrined.
 
That which lasts--that which endures--
Remains utterly beyond our ken.
If we are lucky, flashes of awareness
Illuminate us now and then.
 
Are our questions superficial,
Or do they sink beneath our skin
To penetrate our bones and marrow
And deeply resonate therein?
 
Gratitude flows from every pore
As we glide along on a goalless goal.
An inner calm pervades our being
When we release the illusion of control.
 
We catch a glimpse of truly knowing.
Clouds of doubt that blocked the light
Shift, and we are bathed in the radiance
Of something inconceivably bright.
 
Part of us dies, but something's reborn.
We see through illusions, passions, and lies.
Divested of our strong attachments,
We see the world through different eyes.
 
The path we've sought is under our feet;
There's nothing mysterious--nothing arcane.
We lose our selves and find ourselves,
And we find that there's nothing we need to attain.

- by Bob B