I have been bathing in red
for the past fifteen hundred years
My mind's visualization
of how the world would progress
has gone to war
with the actualization
of a low-voiced outcome.

Even the music
has unopened doors
and lines that fly off into a nowhere of solar wind

Any fertile possibilities
have been eclipsed by a web of distractions and concrete.

So I close it all down for the night,
and I listen.
Very closely.
Like a child I squirm in the arms
of relentless divinity.

Yet I listen.
I try so hard not to speak.
Shhh.
Just...
I can just hear it

It harmonizes with my conclusions.
It shapes my epiphanies.
It releases my worn-out constructs.
and bathes me into awakening.





©    sheabreauxwells  2003