Servant of Awakening

A holy longing to merge with God.

That may be all that I was suffering.

Yet, I made up so many tales of intricate threads

that took me further and further from the remedy.

We do that.

It can come to be that we lose our senses

and further our knowing from

simple truth.

Sometimes awakening comes with death.

Maybe always.

The inevitable extinction of all you were grasping as certitude

makes space for a reclaiming of what was dormant.

Before the possibility could not be known

that it would take silence to hear the deeper wailings.

Grievances for the many felt by a tender heart

makes the potency of transmutation more vibrant.

Temples resurrected

in protection of a soul still gestating.

For this we sing.

Can we offer our breath, even after the walls come down?

A sickness ensued with the lens of tragedy,

mistaking the temple for the salvation.

Debilitation of a once consecrated nobility

in too many seasons of forgetting.

Cocoons form in their right time, and moons pass.

Becoming flourishes with patience.

Light is determined to follow dark

as life is sure after death.

The impulse to follow the revolution

has brought me back to what was forever placed.

The embrace of our origin in her vitality

is above, below, around, and within.