On inner knowings

Mystery sprinkles enough clues
about the future, in the past and present
and the mind gets caught up thinking
it has it all figured out;
these sacred clues of unfolding
come covered in translucent veils,
I glimpse, but not clearly enough
to stand in hubris on certain ground;
trust is the currency of these winks
from beyond and patience their fuel;
making being both human and divine
exhilarating as fuck but also so fucking hard.

Photo by Trevin Rudy on Unsplash