Awake, awake…

07 AWAKE POEM standard confession word face pexels TIME 111 SML wristwatch copy

‘Awake, awake,’ I cried. For one moment I was awake and
began to see all the beauty around me.
Carelessly, had I gone through life, so busily
disregarding the Divine ‘nudges’ along the way.

Everything seemed now to make sense.
Flowers were more colourful, and smelled much richer.
Glorious in their number in the countryside, and even so in the city.
How could I have been so blind?

Inwardly the Spirit of That Which Is Larger Than Ourselves was stirring.
Jokingly, friends called me mad, bad, sad, and some distanced themselves,
knowing not what I had witnessed; they were speaking in their sleep.

Listening intently, I heard a depth of sound I had often missed.
Music pierced me deeper, words ruminated and bore fruit in my soul, and
nowhere (thankfully) was ‘safe’ from this wonderful Godly ‘intrusion’.

‘Oh, that others would feel what I felt, and see what I saw’.
Perhaps they could?  But as I shared, from their eyes, they didn’t.
‘Quicken, their souls,’ was my prayer to the Deity.

Reassuring waves filled by being,
subtle at first, but growing stronger.
‘Trailing clouds of glory,’ is what we do to others, when awake, was the reply.
Upending my thoughts, I realised, too, this awakening would be short-lived.

Valuing it, and to ensure I didn’t forget the experience, I began to write.
Waking is desired, but it is temporary and periodic, and like
x-rays do we ‘see’ through a glass darkly, do
you and I. It is the way things are at present, and so, alternately, we sleep.

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