What is that Bliss that saints and sages seek,
That rapturous and transcendental peak
From which they view with cosmic clarity
The holy essence of reality?
Once long ago I caught a glimpse of it
And labored since to find what’s requisite
To apprehend such Bliss in its full glory,
The hoped-for happy ending to our story.
The best I’ve learned is that serenity,
A poised and tranquil manner, is the key,
A meditative rapture opening
The soul to what sweet messengers may bring:
A taste of honey from some occult comb
Reminding me of our eternal home.