August 14, 2005
This day was to be the day of the start.
However normal it appeared to the senses,
Miracles loomed large on the cusp of perception;
As I glanced at my reflection, my reflection smiled.
There is no life but life in the Creator.
He created all that we shall ever be.
Apartness is but a creation of the darkness;
My darkness chooses to flee, revealing me.
In perfect Light, there is no illusion;
Abiding in Love, faith grows to trust.
Imperfect creations are but a dream;
This day will awaken the miracles that choose to be.
Hope floats in the rivers of clarity;
Lovers swim in the mysteries of life;
The time of the separation has passed;
As we open the eyes to the light of this day.
The sun rose as we dreamt of happy bliss;
Preparations underway in ages forgotten;
The meal is prepared, the table is set, the day has begun.
Sleepily, we clear the eyes that have hidden our view.
Joining hands, our hearts drift toward destiny;
And for an instant, and another, a tear forms;
Doubt returns, and all promised is in peril;
I feel the clenching of your hands, the drenching of your eyes.
In the heart of my spirit, the self that is real,
The answer is basked in the rays of the Son,
Lead me, dear sister, and let me lead you;
The arduous journey of an instant is at hand.
We stumble for a time in the mire of past lives,
The questions of arrogance, of the world, loom large.
Relieve us from the bondage, Father;
Flood us with the grace to trust, to choose ... grace.
Who am I? ... Why me, dear Lord?
Our familiar doubts, our innocent guilt.
The price of humility, the end of hubris;
Fill our hearts with love, grant freedom, peaceful bliss.
Type: Poetry
Author: Steve Robison