What is Left is What is Real

Your load feels heavy
Far heavier than what you feel you can bear at times

The days seem to stretch long like an endless desert
Not a drop of water in sight 
And a distant horizon that makes your eyes cross

You wonder how you’ll make it and if it’s faith or simply foolishness
To envision that you just might

You are being wrung out of all you thought you were
Until every last fabricated shred of your identity 
Gives way in the next out-breath

Walking for a thousands miles, it seems,
All you have to show for it is your weariness or maybe your wisdom

You wonder if you’ve been forsaken by god at times and at others
You’re sure that it’s your very soul that set you up for this

You are no longer yourself and
You are more yourself than you have ever been

In all your broken, battle-worn beauty, 
You hold on by a final golden thread

You are ready now to offer yourself onto the alter of existence
You are prepared to relinquish control and to stop your seeking

It isn't you who is holding on now, you are being held

This last thread is the only real one—
The holy one that ties you to existence
The thread that binds you to the sacred tapestry of spirit

All else was your own insanity as you searched everywhere but here

Having pushed off from the shore of who you thought you were
All things you did to sustain that old sense of self are now outmoded
The company you kept, irrelevant, as you drift on waters of truth

And even though you don’t recognize the face in the mirror
You are what you have always been

It is in the blackness that you come to face your true light
You are what you’ve been seeking, all this time

When there is seemingly nothing left,
When all the distractions and self-made certainties have fallen away,

You finally let go into what is here
And what is left here is what is real


2014 © Marie-Ève Bonneau
 
Artwork by Charles Bergquist