Another look

Staring at the bottom of my cup
The grounds of being coalesce
Whispers of insights at the edge of attention murmur
What am I looking at?
What is the message to myself from the residue of myself?

I drank from the cup and imbibed its elixir
I strain at the niggling encryptions strewn on cave walls
The runes are cast, the bones are thrown and shadows dance
The divination is speaking from forgotten realms in the ancient tongue

The eye looking back draws me to its center
I tremble at the bottom of my cup
I fear loss and disintegration
Yet I know from deepest memory that I am not abandoned  blind and hopeless

Beckoned to another sight
Beyond my self and narcissistic obsession and ambition
The ancient inscriptions glow in fervent ardor
Memory quickened in rapt anticipation

Slowly the shimmering mirage fades
The golden path forms at my feet
The voice of the turtle dove heralds compassionate union
I am drawn to the inner chamber to take another look