Chuck Surface - I have fled the walled villages of belief

I have run from those who "know",
Who assert aggressively,
Speaking with certitude and authority,
The experience and interpretation,
Of those now long dead,
Regarding "Truth".

These Knowers have every right to speak,
And others, every right to listen,
And I, every right to turn away,
From the contempt and disdain,
In which they hold,
Those who do not share their belief.

There are many tribes in this Vastness,
Taking refuge in walled villages of belief,
Of right and wrong, true and false,
Decrying in their temples,
The Untruth of others...
Marching forth to vanquish the infidel.

I have fled the violence of ideology,
Of belief, faith, and dogma,
To wander the Wilderness of Unknowing,
Traversing its Immeasurable Vastness,
Having burned for warmth along the way,
All notions of "Truth".

I have fled to the mountains of Mystery,
And there, watch from lonely heights,
The movements of their armies;
Brandishing concepts, beliefs, and faith,
Like swords and spears held aloft,
To impose the "Truth" on others.

Here... in this Infinite Solitude,
This Boundless Immensity,
Like my Friend Attar, I find myself,
Knowing nothing, understanding nothing,
No longer aware of myself,
In Love, but with whom, I do not know.

With whom I do not know, and yet...
At the risk of building the smallest lean to,
Which, in time, might become a house,
And in time, become a walled village,
I cannot keep myself from whispering,
So tenuously, the word for my "God"...

Love.

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