Had an unexpected opportunity to visit a monastery for a few days retreat. The poem is just a poem;-)

~*~

Surrounded by natural untouched beauty
Where wildlife abounded freely
Thoughts came unbidden questioning reality
As if controlled by a stronger power

Up at dawn on a foggy morn
She walked the penitents path
The Monastery set in sculpted landscape
On 200 acres of woodlands



Her mind wandered through the labryinth
Of mystical illusion only to find more confusion
What is real cannot always be clearly defined
While the unknown can take shape in the mind

Placing a question mark on the absolutes
As well as the hidden roots, like seeing an image in fog exagerrated out of proportion causing doubt as to its origin

We fabricate pictures in our minds from
unknown sources, so real they can become as familiar as people and things we live amongst in our daily lives,yet they are foreign,made-up
from our own imagination

Therefore it is not unwise to ask what is real
and what is imaginary, but do we always know?

etw-2007