I can never be quite sure
how my day is going to unfurl.
It starts off as a simple,
clear my mind of all the busy thoughts
Before the clock strikes five,
the lightning fires up my spine.
On that sacred spot,
beside my favorite rock.
Nothing special, barely visible,
A kind of sight no one cares to notice.
I stand there,
pouring out my prayers,
To everything and everyone
my life is blessed by.
To my fellow travelers.
So many of you have carried me through.
Many of our paths have parted,
as we journey on,
each responding to our own call.
I am the sum of the parts that made me who I am.
The sum of all your smiles,
shames and blames,
resentments, appreciations, admirations.
All of it,
with the hint of your trust,
your joy, your fear,
All of it,
without a twine of doubt.
I am wrapped in the cloak,
woven by all of your threads.
underneath that cloak I wear,
remains the untouchable, unclad,
The one wearing the cloak that soaked it all in.
Lightning may strike.
all of a sudden,
out of the blue.
To shake me, to wake me,
to ruffle my feathers,
reminding me of what truly matters.
Especially on days
when the cloak feels so dreadfully weary
and heavy to carry.
Like a beacon of much needed light,
sending a few wake-up shivers
up and down my spine.
Would I be here if it wasn’t for the love of some sort?
Would there be anything or anyone in this glorious world,
if it wasn’t for the sacred binding force that holds it all together?
The lightning may strike.
What is the force telling me now?
Perfectly timed prompt,
reminding me to humble down,
to count my blessings,
to celebrate, appreciate the life I own.
I must respond.
Because I am the only one who knows.
The only one who can.
With love, fortitude, and grace.