Passions Stir

Passions stir. The ego blurs.
Reasoning has lived through better days.
Logic never had a chance to pray.
Nor power known the miracle of play.
A little less might bring the best again.

Barefoot in the dew-laced grass.
A chill of night that will not pass.
Earth reaching up in tender recognition.
Moving through the sole, becoming soul.
So simple and complete, the intuition.

Sensitive - like childlike joy and curiosity.
Trusting the unknown to know it too.
Precious hints of heaven-sent incentives.
The angels whisper music in your heart.
Wandering in other realms, it starts.

A gentle shift of focus as the tension is relieved.
A startling vision on the cusp of sleep.
And then again, the rending of the veil.
So suddenly, your skin begins to pale.
Light so bright, it burns your eyes.
The fear of blindness lingering inside.

Whatever path you choose to take,
you'll find it soon or late within you too.
A different kind of wise that sees you through.
Whispered hints and blatant tints of color.
Images that live within the hours of your life.
Reality that moves and binds the feel
of those sensations lived inside.

Passions stir. The ego blurs.
Reasoning has lived through better days.
Logic never had a chance to pray.
Nor power known the miracle of play.
A little less might bring the best again.
A little less intense - and there -
the sacristy is opening
within your heart again...

? Michaelette ?

9/5/2003
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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