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I got introduced to a monk. A Buddhist monk. I have always respected men and women clothed in the garb that indicated their inclination to the higher spirit. My head always bowed in reverence. It did not matter how far they were on that journey. It has always been enough that they are walking on the path, which to me, is many times hard, tedious, slow and lonely. For there are dark nights when there is no answer to the calls, and try as one may, there is no indication of any existence beyond what can be sensed by the five senses. How does one get through these nights of loneliness, of despair? On faith alone? And what if the faith fails too? The one you have loved, worshipped, given the reins of your soul to, fails you? Then what? That is what I am finding out.. the loss of faith, the loss of love and the loss of worship.

Here and now begins the next phase of my journey. As I make peace with the loss, I must still keep the faith on the larger and higher spirit and the purpose. And keep my heart open- open to the words, thoughts, and men and women of that inclination. For there is chance that I may still touch the omnipotent, the omnipresent, the eternity. As I disentangle myself from previous engagements, wary, I have begun again. To find that one glimpse of perfection.