Fall's

fragile pale light
will not last,
in deed the days grow shorter.

Winds strip trees naked,
and while they shiver
the moon watches with its cold blue light.

Black cat held prisoner-
at midnight the latch is raised,
and the prison is empty.

Clouds of slate hide the black hawk
flying out of the north,
spectre of a spell cast centuries ago.

Untitled

How did your beliefs come about?
Through reading exoteric and esoteric works, experiential learning?
Did these ways of knowledge lead you to a perfect, doubt free certainty about reality?

What if those exoteric and esoteric works are completely wrong; based on false assumptions of those who came before you, and what about your experiences through your senses- perceived, conceived and abstracted, are they wrong?

What would be the condition of your existence then?