Mystery speaks in the flower of your heart
That from the All Love is never apart,
That ever unfolds, turning base into gold,
The nectar of life that never grows old.

Mystery speaks in the glimmer of dawn’s first light,
In the birth of a teardrop as the soul’s voice brings water to the sight,
In the crease of a smile bursting with delight,
In the genesis of a blade of grass,
In the intelligence behind a billion turning stars…

Mystery exists in the spinning of galaxies
And dimensions beyond physicality,
In invisible folds of mind,
In whispers that come to remind
You of ancient times and futures still to rise
That, in truth, lie ever inside.

Mystery—a hidden layer of reality between the veils,
Where the muses sing
And the wise seers tell their tales,
And boats headed to shores unknown set their sails
On an ocean timeless, boundless,
Reminding you of your inherent oneness.

Mystery—a doorway
Through which you leave behind
Consensus expectation, and rationalization
And the limits of left-brain analytics,
To allow the workings of your intuition and your heart’s magic.

Mystery… let it be what it will be.
Do not place it in a box, or try to pin it down or confine,
It exists beyond any definition you will ever consciously find,
Yet it can give birth to whole new worlds if you open to it and allow it to be…
Let it be…
Mystery.