The highest light is the light within.
Descending, we ascend and win
The heavens, though they distant be,
Reposing here 'twixt you and me.
Our coldest season lights the spark
That vanquishes the roiling dark;
Our blindness ebbs toward understanding,
Furnishing the view commanding:
We constitute a constellation--
But bound up in our situation,
We see, but do not comprehend,
And strive, unto the bitter end.
Exhausted by the endless push
We never see the burning bush;
What would be the path we took,
Had we but turned aside to look?
Every tree's already lit,
Awake within, and ponder it.
Look beyond, and look again--
Perhaps you'll understand it then:
Every light is the light within,
And every thought its distant twin;
Immortal is our evanescence,
Our orbit is our very essence.