One can never be entirely sure
how the day is going to unroll.
It can start off as a simple,
clear my mind from all the busy thoughts
Before the clock strikes five,
I hear the thunder
and as I turn around,
the lightning fires up my spine.
On the sacred spot,
beside my favorite rock.
I stand there,
pouring out my prayers,
To everything and everyone
I have ever been blessed by.
To my numinous fellow travelers.
So many of you have carried me through.
Many of our paths have parted,
as we journey on,
each responding to the whispers of our soul.
I am a tapestry of moments,
woven together by the threads of my life’s components.
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 strings.
underneath that cloak I wear,
remains the untouchable, unclad,
The one wearing the cloak that soaked it all in.
Lightning may strike.
Suddenly emerged from the shrouded azure hue.
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 kind?
Would there be anything or anyone in this glorious world,
if it wasn’t for the sacred binding force that holds us all together?
The sky alight with bolts of fire,
what secrets does the universe conspire?
A 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, gratitude, fortitude, and grace.