The Real only comes to some-
to those listening. To those who
can endure the fathomless silence,
starting first in your core, then spreading
throughout the room,
through shut windows.
It takes time to hear, sometimes generations.
Endurance in full rapt attention. Silence
becomes voice, and finally it speaks.
Obliqueness for the listener to ascend.
Alone. I leaped rock over rock to the top
and found myself waiting, transformed
and then He spoke, my heart awake and willful,
the world’s elements were flowing-
Forgetting me, the room, the beautiful tree out-side,
I fled my corrupt nature, my worldly self:
The projections, assumptions, and judgments,
My inheritance from all others.
And I was alone with Him.
– Deb Neal Johnston