head in the sand... head in the sky

Feel nothing...
We reach out to find what was standing behind us.
The ebb and flow and cyclical motion of all that is- the rustle of the leaves on a swaying tree kissed by the golden light of a setting sun...
The wilting roses set upon the alter for a friend transcended...
The message in an emtpy wine bottle that washes on to shore...
The message inside was written for you and no-one else....
It tells an endless tale of waterfalls and moonlit kisses in a desert...
It tells a tale we've heard before, but wait on bated breath to hear again for the first time.
A constant harmony...
The wind that sings a descant we can't hear because we ARE the sky.
We look from above through the window of the atmosphere, and giggle at our stumbling souls.
We sigh as we watch ourselves glimpse at 'the all' through a moment of bliss and then we watch how quickly we forget .
That passion driving our love for one another....
The hidden intoxicant that washes off our hesitant, insecure confusion....
The passion is our vehicle that drives us towards the viewpoint from where we can see why we are here...
but almost always the vehicle takes a wrong turn just before we arrive to the sight that we wait to behold.
And we must start the journey again...
But there's a reason we can't hold on to the bliss, to the truth, to the loving consciousness at all times..
Its the same reason that grasp as we might, we can't catch the wind....
Is it a cosmic game?
Or do we have to cry and ache and writhe in pain and spend a lifetime, or a day, or for some, just a breath in the darkness and confusion to then find ourselves returning home?
The perpetual swing of the pendulum from darkness to light, from untruth to truth and from death to immortality....
Its all so clear and yet so clearly unclear....
I think I just understood the ostrich.