The Thought That Lingers: Part Four

The thought that lingers will not rest.
Nor dare it ever sleep
from constant dread; from constant fear
of never ever waking up
from its unknown profundity.

The thought that holds me prisoner,
as lingering, persistent thought,
is that which my ego-self must ponder;
with classic irony of my-self-reflection,
ever pondering — in order to be wholly free.

Man’s struggle, then, is with the outer self of ego
that hides in secrecy the inner Self of Psyche;
the unconscious buried Self of union;
the all-knowing true Self;
alert in mystical karmic dreams.

Material self bounded by spiritual Self,
a stranger thus to Psyche;
brother matter seeking union with sister spirit;
like yin and yang —  together, yet divided;
the twain,  conjugal bedfellows of each other.

Such is the irony that we live;
of man within, and man without.
Of man above, and man below.
Of man, a puzzle to his own nature;
immersed in the eternal quest of knowing Self.

From above and below is thought;
emerging from chthonic levels, deep within;
and from the heavenly  galaxies about.
Thought as universes, revolving on their  axis;
thought, in ouroboros stance; ever revolving.

This is the ironic legacy of man.
This is the legacy of Übermenschen.
Enchained and yoked to God; yet free.
The Adamic fate of Man-of-Thought;
in eternal umbilical embrace with Self.

And so we search for Living Truth;
Truth ensconced, removed from view;
buried in far and sundry places.
Truth familiar; yet so alien to us.
Truth striving to be made self-evident.

This is the thought that lingers yet.
The only thought that matters.
Woe is man seeking to find truth of Self;
the truth we all eternally seek,
in order to be truly free.

Men of goodwill seek that Truth.
Many strive to find it.
Most tread the trampled crooked path;
while few pursue the narrow.
No one ends the journey without suffering.

Some can say they fought the good fight,
and that they finished the race;
yet even they will blemish show,
at end of their life’s journey;
their psyche unperfected.

Christ alone, as man — and God,
fulfilled that goal which all men seek.
To lead a life that’s free of blemish.
As Savior of the world to say:
“Amen, it’s truly finished.”

The thought of finding Truth is strong.
It is a universal quest.
A quest native to mortal man,
who finds himself born free;
yet everywhere to be in chains.

This thing called Truth, t’would seem to me.
is, by its order, categorical;
a categorical imperative;
a force of moral magnitude,
 designed for mankind’s betterment.

Truth, indelible, can never be rejected,
when once it is encountered.
As sovereign  thought it pricks man’s conscience.
Known by him as the First and only Cause;
the Source of all existence.

Truth, being absolute, can not be magnified;
nor can it ever be reduced.
Like eternal Dao, it cannot be dissolved.
Nor has it any need to evolve.
Remaining both old and ever new.

This truth is thought that surfaces
from depths so far below.
to nether worlds that’s far above;
having no final resting place;
and with boundaries ever unknown.

So what is this great truth we seek?
Where, then, can it be stored?
What is its goal for humankind?
What promises it offers?
And what need do we have of it?

These questions are not too difficult;
indeed, quite frank they are.
Yet this remains persistently clear.
The answers that we struggle to find,
are not so easy at all.

We live and breathe; and seek to find,
throughout our mortal lives,
a reason for our constant thoughts,
of who, and why we are.
Our thoughts of Self — Socratic Inquiry.

Afraid of void makes us all dwell
on the Divine — beyond our Self;
on that which never dies.
On the Indwelling Gracious Self.
On that which frames all life.

The thought that lingers will not rest.
Nor dare it ever sleep
from constant dread; from constant fear
of never ever waking up
from its unknown profundity.