It’s like a guided tour at the brink
of the abyss. The mushroom leads you to the cliff,
and points, and commands you to look. To be sure, there is a guardrail
and a concession stand, and the guide cracks lame jokes. It can be banal, even silly,
and the brochure guarantees that there is no danger of falling off the edge. But when you look into
that darkness, see the stirring of great forms within it, hear the pounding and buzzing that echoes in its depths, you
remember why you have come.
You stand there, gazing over
the edge of Life, gazing into
that night, and something
rises up before you It
breaks across the flimsy
railing, and touches
you right there, right
where you are Human.
You see all life pouring
past you over that
trembling, aching lip,
pouring back into the
mystery, receding into
truth, never slowing,
constantly renewed.
And you understand that
someday you will stand at
this ridge again. On that day,
the concession stand will have
been boarded up, the railing will be
rusted to the ground, and the brochures
will have long ago blown away. Then the
only guide will be a familiar, quiet voice which
beckons to you gently from the depths of the Mystery.
- Author Unknown