Distraction

Perhaps if I could agree with the Buddha
I would accept my life as a distraction,
A mere illusion that conceals
Clarity and knowledge.

What terrible vision would be set before me?
Family and flowers, love and hate,
Might be recognized, if at all,
As impostors, hiding the greater reality.

And that reality?
Beyond words or any human comprehension.
Or perhaps merely a drug induced dream,
Temporarily suggesting that there is a way.

No doubt it is fear and lethargy
That prevent me from such a journey.
No road signs to mark my path,
And eventual safe arrival.

To lose belief in the possible,
And find something far greater,
Is a precarious trade,
And beyond, far beyond, my limits.