Knowing no knowing knows the now.

Do not mourn discarded plans
To ride your camel a thousand miles to Mecca,
Once you know you must climb Everest instead.

The plan is not the goal.
The plan was never the goal.
The goal was the goal.

If the goal changes,
No matter how good the plan,
Change the plan.

So rejoice, grab your mule and climb your mountain.
It matters not whether you wade through camel shit
Or mule shit to get there.

The surest way to fall is to stop moving forward.

Each night Ant leaves the colony,
Treks through the field,
Finds a blade of grass,
And Ant climbs, climbs, climbs. 

Ant’s work for the day has passed,
His burden lowered,
The others sleep,
And Ant is done, done, done.

In spiritual ecstasy,
Atop the spike,
Mandibles clamped tight,
Legs waving with wind,
And Ant prays, prays, prays.

Deep inside Ant knows he is part of something larger.
Deep inside Ant knows he serves a higher purpose.
Deep inside Ant knows he has been touched by God.
Deep, deep, deep.

Yet a small part of Ant niggles.
A small part of Ant nags.
A small part of Ant needles.
Burrowing doubt. Pernicious doubt. Malevolent doubt.

Was that moment when
Ant felt one with everything
Truly God?
Or was it just a fluke?

Had God made Dog in his own image,
Would angels smell each others butts?