Meditation - A Poem

I cannot tell you where it is I go;

I cannot tell you who it is that goes

Or what remains behind.  I only know

That some still, inner point of deep repose

Is calling me.  The route I choose is mine,

Uniquely mine, and yet at journey's end

It is as though all diverse routes combine.

I cannot rest for long, but soon ascend

And burst into the lesser light of day

Where life engulfs me.  There's no more to say.

No phrase that even partially explains

My spirit's hunger for this daily feast,

For meditation starts when words have ceased.