You rush and rush to quell the pull,
you chatter on and listen to the chatter all
to mute the call, but there it is.
It gleams in you like hope, it leans in you,
it turns you like a gyroscope,
and sometimes seethes,
or settles in and hides
in bleak, quotidian need or want,
in greed for thing or sense (or none).
But still in you it deepens,
resonates from merest mumble
to large blue tones, huge bells,
the sound of oceans, pull of seas,
a sea that swallows, surges, flows,
the joyful longing, welcome ache
you hold until you break and hear the voice
that makes such sense of all that came before,
that makes of half the world a dull nonsense,
that frees your terror and your joy
(why do we deny ourselves this love,
this pang that pulls us out of larvae into life?)
the call you fear and long the most to answer,
so close in voice and volume
to the first “Let there be light”—
the simple summons: “Follow me.”
And, just a bit, sometimes, you do
and are reborn.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
January 22, 2020