The top of the neck
at the base of the skull,
where instincts wait
in gathering power
for one moment in an hour
when our defenses are down;
and then they choose to strike
the very center of a truth
that we’ve been taught
to never see within the little
world of our beliefs.
We think ourselves above the
until the feel of pain becomes
the only focus that our mind can keep;
and no matter how we wail and weep
this pain refuses to let go
until we come to know
of its involuntary right to be itself,
as time and time again
it comes to save us from the one
that others always taught us
that we ought to be,
Slowly, then, another attitude
in misty visions, not quite clear in their intention
that can seem more like an alien invasion
than any part of who we really are;
and yet the stars approve this movement,
glowing silently in rectitude,
as the will to our integrity arises
forcefully to play its given role
of honesty within our lives.
These realms that live invisibly
within what we have thought to be
a sanctity of one alone - detached,
come then to show a multitude
of variation’s recklessness,
that somehow seems untamed
the more we dare remain in touch.
For threads, much less than
attach us to a myriad of differentiation,
while each of us have grown within
a doubled helix of substantiation;
never quite the same, yet somehow too
so close it seems we always knew
just what all others tell us
they are going through.
Can we trust this sense
that somehow seems so innocent?
Or shall we once again deny
this wisdom born of strength in unity?
Ask your heart, my friend
and in the end, the pieces of the puzzle
will fit within a harmony of love.
For all we are and all we’re meant to be
was conceived by just such feelings.
Qhile sensation played its role, invisible;
it chooses now, to feel its way
into our consciousness . . .
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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