Threshold - Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee...

In silence we become and then unbecome,
 know and are unknown.

For so long we have searched…..hoping,
 expecting to find something.

Always you thought there was something to seek,
 a journey to make. Now you stand on the precipice,
 looking out over the horizon of your self,

and you know it is otherwise.

Here there is no seeking, no lover lost and found.

There is no looking, nothing to reach for, no path to follow.

But within there is an answer, not in form but in substance.

The source brings something beyond the passions
 of day-to-day life to the surface,
 something we need to nourish rather than define.

There is a bigger wholeness hidden,

waiting at the corner of the moments,

watching from behind the thoughts.

You wait for something to happen,
 and there is nothing to happen,
 yet the happening comes closer,
 like a map that reveals your own garden
 as an undiscovered place,

that comes from across time and beyond space.

There is another presence, another pattern,
 not hidden but unrevealed.

There is a tender sense of silence…..

In the moments of our own silence we are welcomed,

as both stranger and friend.

We need to allow the presence to become present,

not defined in moments, but as a flow.

The river is here.

The silence, unbidden, is always present.

In the tranquility of the moment nothing is defined or captured.

This world is infused with the other,
 steeped in the dew of timelessness.

Just Isness.

In that Isness everything is included –

you, the Beloved, the will to unfold the eternal into the present,

to cross the borders of time and space,
 and saturate the now with eternity.

Yet, there is no other…

You were always alone but you thought it was
 a state of incompleteness.

You waited for someone to come,
always waiting at the bus stop for the bus
that never comes,

because there is nowhere to go…

You wait at the threshold of the other world,

struggling with your self…

when the other world is already present.

The real mystery is how IT unveils itself
within us;
how the Beloved makes ItSelf known
to ItSelf
in the fragile container
of the human being.

In the midst of
The Divine Drama
there is a human story…
But it’s all God’s story
being lived in form.

Excerpts from: Fragments of a Love Story

Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee
Sufi Mystic

Please note: I have taken excerpts from various pages
of the book, put them together and created this prose poem.