In my dream, I am
in an exciting interview
in the creative offices
of high-powered people,
sitting across the table
from two men who can
make big things happen.
I am telling them
the story of my life;
they are entertained,
eating it up, getting ideas
wanting more…
when suddenly,
I am out-of-body,
creaking in mid-air,
my animation suspended.
Distance, silence.
There is nothing more.
I drift away in murky mid-air,
maffling over my shoulder
apology or explanation,
“I must tend to my Life.”
I come back to myself
in a different place,
carrying a blown-glass ball
of rustic, transparent green.
This enigmatic vessel,
the Mystery it contains,
is the Life I must tend.
It is not my life,
nor even about me.
This is Life itself,
alive, a wonderment,
immanent, transcendent,
fragile, eternal, and sacred,
mine to carry.
My life goes on,
but I know I am here
just to carry the Mystery,
this miracle,
for awhile,
as we each
—knowing or unknowing—
are here just to
carry the Mystery.
Ann Keiffer
January, 2019
