I realize that if I didn’t find God, it was because I was looking for him where he wasn’t to be found. I sought him in concepts, books, stories,
And I was so absorbed in them that I couldn’t see where he was,
Not in memory, in sketch, or in reminiscence,
but directly, right there,
Through the joy and calm that bathes my heart in the middle of the night,
as I listened to his name echo.
God speaks, without media, he infuses the inner palace with his presence
thus impregnated with the divine effluvium, I realize that what is found outside the palace
is of a nature so diluted, de-natured, that it is insipid and cannot satisfy the soul.
Notes & Silence 
What are meant, by those who create them to be signposts, become barriers, if they, rather than journey ahead, the destination, are all that is seen
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