The Illusionist

We need God to exist
because we do not recognize Existence itself.
We need a name for the Nameless, 
a form for the Formless, 
or we lose track of the fact that everything 
is nameless and formless.
To understand eternity, 
we need a concept for an Inside that has no outside,
a Presence that has no absence.
So we draw the outline of a Circle 
whose center is everywhere,
and blink while it disappears.
No hocus pocus,
just a focus with no locus.
All we see are temporary traces left on the mind,
never the Mind itself.
We look at the painting,
and ignore the Canvas.
We look up to the sky to know the weather,
but all we see are sun and clouds,
at night, moon and stars --
do we ever really see the Sky?
All the while it was in plain sight,
right behind your head.
Look! There it is again, just below your nose.
Now it fills your lungs.

God works that way,
making the unknowable known,
the unfathomably far away
close.
No magic,
no mysterious ways,
just misdirection,
until that Aha! moment when the secret is revealed:
the lady wasn't really cut in two,
and neither was Existence.
It was all you.

For Emerson, on the splendid occasion of his 3rd birthday. Love, Papa

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Published by Waldo Noesta

Enough about me. Let's talk about you....

2 thoughts on “The Illusionist

  1. Just noticing the dedication to your son and all the angel cloud formations and the figure in the stars. Didn’t see any of that the first time through – love it.

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