Even as we construct our shadow-world,
Its gradual dissolution carries on.
Even if unfelt, our seeming security gets chipped away,
While an inner knowing, whether known or unknown, is ever kindled.
And though awakening's light may be our birthright,
Why the compulsion for sneak previews, for peeps under the tent?
If there's a middle ground leading beyond our hopes and dreams,
Perhaps it's love's labor, greater than any revelations.