inward locus

On Death And Revelation

December 23, 2019 | 1 min read

Of what was and what could be
Standing across a funeral pyre
Visibly shaken, I am shocked
Rather uptight, tongue tight

Fire flames, pile of woods
Rustling trees, a familiar scene
Still in slumber, mind at ease
Stood here before, like in dream I have been

Seconds fly while eternity I burrow
Believed they were free, in a self-imposed cage
They walked right by, my eyes followed
Yet still I am here, in the depths of my rage

Stiff as a plank, locked in a stare
Like a rooted tree, I gawked
I was ceased, surprisingly pleased
Like in formation, a metamorphic rock

As the vision blurred
Finally I broke free
Distant albeit aware
Silhouetted face
Perpetual revelation
Like a puzzling grace
Strange but true
Awaken! All that I am
It is you.

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