The Gift
The palace of One belief.
Defali: Charcoal, copper and thread on wood
It is here, all of it.
Believe—I believe.
Oh, I believe.
Every stone is turned; no labyrinth to walk anymore.
Windows are open.
Birds sing once again.
The sun doesn’t claim godship.
No one claims ownership.
Nothing left here to worship.
Just a belief,
once hidden in the treasure box, now released.
Thou hast known thyself.
The terrible act of waiting
has come to an end.
The end of searching.
February, 2025
