Desperation - no relief in sight
as if the night refused to leave
or allow a way for dawn to break
into another day
(Is darkness merely
our unknowing then?)

To realize one's own mortality
is held together by mere threads
Gossamer, they move and blend
with all eternity
(Slight, the power
to cut right through
essential threads of life)

Each thread a vital, living part
of a vast complexity
we've simply come to call
our individuality
(and yet we seek, we cling
to this imagined being
that we see within the mirror)

and we are taught to think
and then believe
that we control the strings
of our own life
(ethereal, this mind's imaginings
seeking still to bring
the safety of control
into a realm of chaos speaking)

yet can we come to understand . . . ?
the source of this simplicity
that in a moment's time
can come to let us know
in its entirety
the underlying plan of all of life
(The source
the very breath of all that is)

even as a springtime breeze
blows in to plant a kiss
upon a cheek, upon a brow
upon this flesh that lives somehow
despite imagined terrors of the dark
(nature, ever bringing miracles
of peace born of the chaos
of all life becoming one)

until a spark of soul takes heed
and turns into a flaming fire
dispersing darkness and the feel
of desperation made unreal
as spirit soars above it all
answering the silent call of life
(sweet release, this flight of soul
remembering each part is whole
becoming more and more the sense
of life's entirety)

?Michaelette?