I went looking for a teacher, roaming far and wide and calling: “Teacher? Teacher? Who am I to be?”
I found a prophet, tattered and bruised, with lightening thunder eyes. He stripped the fat from my tender hopes and fed it to the hungry ghosts beneath the bridge.
I found a nanny with leaking teats. She watered the thistles with her milk, taunting me with mindless songs. Still I wandered, high and low. “Teacher? Teacher? Where am I to go?”
In a cathedral, I found a flock of skeletons. From the great book poured a hymn that made the dead ones clack and moan. My eyes were dry, my heart an empty tomb.
I found a madman prowling dreamworlds only he could measure, though he gestured grandly. He described the shape and color of my destiny, but his words fell burning into the void.
I found an angel with whispering wings who knew me from my cradle. She shook her head with genuine sorrow; she loved me, but could not guide my future.
Still I wandered, back and forth. “Teacher? Teacher? How am I to live?”
I found a lover who whispered wisdom into my neck and around the pillars of my thighs. The scripture on my body vibrated in the darkness, but faded, indecipherable, at daybreak.
I found a circle of sprites dancing beneath the cedars. They taught me the names of the tree people and the language of rivers, but their touch was thin as moonlight and left me weeping for my mother.
At last, I found a castle filled with rooms. In each, a parable unfolded, a shining, intricate opera. A rainbow-voiced diva glided through the corridors.
“Are you my teacher?” I asked.
She pointed to a hole in the vaulted ceiling and began to chant the whirling constellations. When I looked down again, I saw she was one of a thousand masters woven into the tapestry of my Being.
In my dreams, I search their faces, and tune my heart to the rhythm of their wholeness.