longing for the shade of the tree of enlightenment,
we find sitting under the tree less romantic
the roots jut into the backside
leaning against the trunk, the marching ants quickly divert their route across the shoulders
the acorns of enlightenment crack on the head
at times the sun pierces through the branches and blind
enlightenment is not passive;
not mere osmosis of a spiritual locale
sufis seek the sweetness of faith through the itch of the wool
gibran says pain breaks the shell of our understanding
enlightenment is the friction
the constant wearing away
the annoyance of chiseling
slowly revealing the masterpiece
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