A boat is a floating equation,
     a navel basin worth gazing, a craft guiding
     its disciples, overflowing with
     questions giving birth to yet more questions, a trip
     enabling farther destinations,
     since the best place to have an epiphany or
     revelation—experience and
     share a spiritual realization—is
     on a bridge, at a crossroads, or on

an ocean, every river itself a rogue
     constellation of bold causes and
     heroic effects carving creation, since in
     between and within interfaces—
     those cryptic spaces where nothing exists, making
     its presence known only by showing
     what and where it isn’t, with a coded language
     of absences—are hints where we so
     often are faced with what waits within us to be

truly awakened, each crack, crevice,
     and lone border as potent as a solstice, an
     eclipse, an equinox, a sunrise,
     a moon changing tides, a sky trading seasons, or
     life’s end, when spent beginnings again
     return to oblivion—taking on wonder,
     while walking these places aflame with
     the energy of water, stirs souls to wander—
     imbuing their navigators with

what earth’s nourishing mother taught our ancestors,
     this magic art that gave the Church its
     Father(s) and wisdom her daughters—those veiled sisters
     of the silences, handmaidens of
     the hidden sciences—nursing an undertow
     of alternative knowledge, flowing
     only into open minds to be mastered, pure
     command of their surging power what
     distinguishes a king from a mere traveler.