The White Stone
A Poem about the Path, by Nicolas Greco
To you I can say it. This poem contains the secret. And because it’s a secret you will not be able to read it. The secret is your name; your real name, your only name. This name comes alive when you get to know it. It gives meaning to life. It dictates to you the meaning of your life.
This name is written on a white stone. This white stone is in a well This well is not in your head. It is on the path with no end.
But you will tell me I’ve already seen wells and there I only saw water that I already drank. And even if a stone was there how could I have taken it?
By going there. By going down. By going up. This well is called pain. The wells that you have encountered so far contained troubled water or do not contain a drop.
The well of the meeting of your name exists. It is waiting for you. If the water it contains is cloudy and dirty it is because the sky is agitated, obscured, not allowing to see the bottom where the white stone lies.
So wait…. Do not despair. Be patient until the water calms down. Then you will perceive the bottom of the well and you will begin to see what IS.
If the well is dry then still be patient, and wait some more, and pray some more, until the coming of the rain that will fill the well to the edge.
Your well will be filled with a kind of water such as you have never drunk before; clear limpid rejuvenating. So drink drink drink.
You will know that there is nothing more to drink when you perceive the white stone at the bottom of the well. You will know your name.
The water of the well of pain brings only pain? And I don’t want to suffer! I came to earth to be happy and although sometimes I believed I had found happiness it was quickly replaced with sadness and I did not want to suffer anymore.
I do not understand. I do not understand anymore. Yet I thought I knew. In fact I did not know that I did not know. I wanted heaven on earth. I wanted heaven and earth.
I wanted to be God and the illusion of being. I thought I could have both. In doing so I was two.
I did not know that being two divided me and created multiplicity. In multiplicity I had several truths. with many truths I was numerous. The search for oneness leads to solitude; to lose all that one believes to possess and be. To lose oneself And if I get lost then He can find me.
What will be read is information. This information has already been written in many ways with an approach peculiar to the cultures from which it originated and at the times to which it belonged.
Today the language used allows an approach to spiritual phenomena more permeable to the understanding of each, to the extent that we give back each of the four dimensions of the human being their real value in order to reconstitute the primordial Adam, so as to find our first reality, our vocation, our name.
The following is not a story to continue to sleepwalk but could be the rooster’s first awakening call at the dawn of a new day.