in the poetry of every day of our lives
we sometimes miss the little spark that finds us.
it is drowned out by our neon and frenzy--
we fear sometimes that our energy.vibrancy.youth has gone pale.

but look up, look all around you. the clouds have gathered;
feel the patient rain cool your fiery cheek.
the drop could almost hiss on your skin. you have been weighed down
--but you are made light. a tiny spark illuminates you. you are soft.

i turned my head to see who would walk with me, through the rain through the
weary through the lonely heavy hills;
gasping i saw that my people were seeking me, seeking one another
by a light by a fire by a colorpainted radiance, the spark the little sleeping life
was through the rainfall cascades prism drops transformed
into beauty piercing awakening

we are not alone your youth your love your compassion and joy
has not abandoned you.
nurture the small thing that sleeps in you; it is your infinity,
it is the universe in us all
the light in all of us.

and so flows the poetry of the age on down the road i walk another day
and so flowers the witness of my generation and singing my people rise up in elation

one day i will know i will understand the world i caress with my small white hand

03/24/2003

Author's Note: still working on it...

Posted on 03/24/2003
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