It cannot be knocked into shape with a hammer and chisel.
It is quietly formed by gentle breezes.
It blows in unannounced.
It cannot be agreed upon by a committee,
Debated over and argued about around a table.
It is alighted upon by a single mind,
Laid open in silent contemplation.
It cannot be taught, for you already know it.
It need not be recorded in books,
Set down in words,
For it already exists in written form,
Buried deep within the secret person of the heart,
Waiting to be gradually revealed to any who care,
Patiently,
To brush away the collected dust of the past.
It will not need to be pointed out and identified,
For when it is discovered it will be recognised,
Accepted without doubt,
And embraced like a long lost loved one.