The Key - Prose

The key
Opens no door
Reveals no mind
No spoken word
No belief or faith

The mystery
Remains as so
Locked
With no need for human reflection
As the illumination
Within the soul
Directs shadows
Towards the false witness
That lines the walls
Of grey-mattered egoism
Selfish points on a map
Guiding those who are interested
Toward my greatness

But is that not what I speak of?
There is no greatness
And the key knows this

What insight exists
When every utterance is challenged?
When fishes and loaves are not produced?
When water remains water?
When bread and wine are not body or blood?

Who can say what they heard?
Who can describe what they see?
When those who saw
Were unable to tame their fears
As it led them to hide in shame
When those who did not see
Were unable to tame their courage
As it led them to their grave

You see my face
The serenity in knowing what I do not know
The calm in knowing what I am
The comfort in shedding desire
For your approval
As I have thrown the key into the shadows
Where pride begs the sun not to set behind humility