You Are a Miracle
A mystic writes a love poem to your soul. Begging, asking, pleading you to awaken to your infinite divine glory. Their words worship your inner world. They exalt your spirit to shine as bright and as full as it possibly can. The mystic sings to elevate what you consider to be your vices and weakness. Their words are meant to help you rise into the morning sun. They wish to offer you wholeness, to show you that you are a process. An imperfectly perfect being. Their music is meant to be a silent recognition of all that you are.
Therefore, a mystic cannot compromise. Mystics have to use words that might seem to you as an exaggeration. But in truth, in reality, they are not. You are magnificent the mystic will say. You, as you are, in your wholeness, in your totality are nothing short than a miracle. Every gesture you make, every step you might take. You my friend, my glorious friend, are amazing. I am stunned witnessing your growth. I am humbled by your presence in my life. I am indebted to existence in its splendor for putting you on my path. For showing me myself in and through your eyes. I, forever, am grateful for who you are. For without you being you, how can I be me?
As a mystic, I am under oath. An agreement to share in truth. To describe what I see. To be nothing more than a symbol, a gesture. A finger pointing back at itself. I am here to fight in your behalf. To argue indefinitely that you are truly magnificent, miraculous and amazing. Even if you will be my sole enemy. Doing your best to fight back and prove me wrong.
I will fight back because your greatness is my greatness. Your light is my own. If you struggle to stay in darkness I will have to follow. If I follow, you’ll have to lead. If you lead, I’ll have to follow. If I follow, I’ll get to stand behind you and shine the greatest light on how magical and wondrous you are even in darkness. I will admire your ability to imagine the dark among so much light. To be such a shining example of the illusion you aren’t light.
A mystic cannot compromise. The entire universe counts on us. There is a fine balance that has to be kept. A certain type of equanimity is required. A steadfast commitment to a life long offering of gratitude. The truth is though, it is really easy. To be a mystic is the simplest job in the whole entire universe. There’s literally nothing to do. Just witness, just observe how perfectly imperfect, how divinely magnificent we all are.