Dennis Dossett








“From the Ancient Wisdoms to Quantum Physics,
It’s All About the Energy!”

      Chilly nights followed by crisp sunny mornings of autumn are the most reliable time in my neighborhood to reconnect with Sister Mist in person, although we have met in many quite different venues over the years. I was first introduced to her years ago by the Lebanese-American poet & author, Kahlil Gibran* in his posthumous book, The Garden of the Prophet (1933). The following poem commemorates one of our conversations.
(To listen to this poem while reading, click on the player below).


                                  Sister Mist

     O Mist, the mystic poet* calls you “Sister”, as do I, for you are
     the breath of my body, and your Spirit the flesh of my soul.
     In the sun's ray you rise, vanishing into your vital essence.
     Sister, teach me to rise into my Essence, the Supernal Light.

     We’ve met on mountain paths and conferred in forest glens.
     O Sister Mist, yesterday I saw you, and then I saw you not.
     Tomorrow you may not be visible to my eyes, but today
     you are here, ready to teach, and I am here, ready to learn.

     When conditions are exactly right, you appear.
     And when my consciousness is attuned, I am able
     to receive the sweet waters of your wisdom.
     We must ever be vigilant! Let us not waste time!

     For that fleeting moment when you may teach, that
     treasured moment when I may sip the secrets you possess,
     you are the messenger; you are the instrument, and
     I am the waiting vessel into which your wisdom is poured.

     I thirst for the sweet waters of your wisdom, Sister,
     but you fill me not unless I am ready. For though
     the vessel be empty, it may not be filled until it is
     cleansed and made fit to receive the Truth you reveal.

     And on those rare, precious days when all is exactly right,
     you have proffered your guidance and shared your insights
     freely, lovingly, concerned only with my understanding
     and with furthering my progress in the search for Truth.

     Once, I asked if you dissolve unseen into this world, or whether
     you dissolve into other worlds, and you whispered, “Yesss.”
     And from your answer I understood that you and I are
     inseparable kinsmen in the Three Worlds; you, my sister soul in

     the Causal World where we are but a gleam in our Father’s eye,
     in the Astral World where our substance is the same but
     our appearance is different, and in this Material World where
     both substance and appearance are but illusion.

     “And which of us is older?” I challenged in sibling rivalry.
     “Shall we reckon our age as years in material form or
     in our maturity on Nature’s evolutionary scale?”
     And again, you whispered, “Yesss.”

     And from your answer I understood that age is justly a matter
     of soul wisdom, for physical age in the One Eternal Now is
     but an illusion of this sense world, and maturity is
     proved only by the soul’s understanding of Truth.

     Persistently, I queried, “What is more important, those
     things which I have said and done in lifetimes past or the
     acts of future incarnations as yet undreamed of?”
     Again, you whispered, “Yesss.”

     And from your answer, I understood that yesterday’s
     ending defines today’s beginning, and that tomorrow’s
     challenge depends entirely on what I do today.
     And then, Sister, you reminded me that today is yet young.

     All that matters is the lesson you teach me today,
     for it alone is the measure of progress past, and it alone
     is the key that unlocks the hope of progress tomorrow.
     All that matters is the lesson I learn today!

     So, I shall neither dwell on the past nor
     speculate on the morrow, for all my energies
     are needed here and now for the lesson of today.
     The lesson of today is all that matters!

     Today I asked, “Whose task is more difficult, yours—or mine?
     I, who struggle to understand the mysteries you reveal, or you,
     whose simple task daily is to remind me of who I really am?”
     And once again, Sister, you whispered, “Yesss.”



“A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom; the figure is the same as for love.“
~ Robert Frost (1874-1963; American Pulitzer Prize-winning poet) ~