The Gradual Brightening

How long have I been journeying? Have I slept for part of this trek and missed important signals from others? Have I let them down, not played my part? Ahead of me I see a broken ladder. It was my destination. How will I ascend to the higher plateaus, or even glimpse what they offer? Must I live perpetually in this dark region growing even darker? Will I never rise high enough to be flooded by available light? What can my mind tell me? How will my soul redeem me? Is it for this dead place I carried so many burdens? I am listening to my heart's cry for peace and my soul's longing for wholeness. The Great Unknown is just an abstraction, a toy of the mind, causing me little unrest. What concerns me is the darkening web over the everyday rendering everything and every person hazy, unfocused, unreal. How from such a crowd can friends and allies step forth? There is a burden in The Creative Life far heavier than what I felt when I was young and everyone was an ally, even a friend, definitely a fellow traveler. When did such darkness isolate us? How long have we been strangers, who speak foreign languages? How long have people used the word "enemy" to identify neighbors they no longer trust? Our fortunes have darkened, our cities are in decline, joie de vivre has no celebrants. It is not for my soul that I feel such doubts, night-terrors, ennui and that darkening web swirling above me with its graceful dance of menace. It is for my mind I grieve, it needs such calm to perform its ceremonies of thought. Will it survive these new truths crowding its pure space? Already counterfeit truth jostles with genuine truth. With what inner resource can I restore a collapsing mind? Is there some place of exile where my mind can be safe and weather the storms my soul overcomes with its perpetual fair weather within? There is a solitude of the mind which shelters what gives my being its high delight. My soul is never vexed, nor does it resign. It is composed of the strongest spiritual fibers.It is nourished by endless Castalian springs, and angels visit when their missions bring them nearby. It always listens to the orphic music of human beings and the stillness of the Music of the Spheres. What do I fear for my soul? Nada. My soul still shines with utmost light, with ever renewing light. Without the healthy, questioning mind, soul will sink into any persuasive redemption story, the weakness of its strength. My soul must seek its own sweet salvation. I have always assumed I would behave with just the right proportions of pride and humility. This balance I would achieve with Socrates's aplomb and whatever else pertains to his bright self. His daemon still conveys such virtue. And the creative fire that burns across my being unites body and soul, heart and mind into one brilliant Self. Philosophy contains the hidden source of Love: its power will rescue our bodies from Time's ravages, its grace will free our souls from bondage. We will be like Monarch butterflies, who burst from their cocoons, dry their wings, and then launch on their long journey toward the Southern Sun.