The approach to the mystery
Is not made by paths of ritual.
Though four hundred thousand
Have trod this trail before,
Their footsteps leave no trace
To guide the wary traveler.
Instead,
Consider the sensation of that small eyelash
Or mite of dust, beneath the eyelids
As you rub them wearily, even doubting
That any disturbance lies close at hand
At all.
The imaginary itch may be sign or an illusion,
Distraction, obsession, or rent in the veil.
Possibly some secret hides itself to be extracted,
Perhaps an old ache has merely left its ghostly pang.
Even if removed, no surety that the irritant is gone.
From too roughly desiring clarity, an irritation remains.
And only a gradual waning of the presence or shadow
Gives negative proof to any change at all.
Will you see any more clearly?
Depends on what you look at,
And how you look at it.