Nighttime, without light I am left
stranded, immobilized in the darkness.
I need illumination, like breath.
Internal lights too,
the source of their power
lying beyond my view.
A callous word, a thoughtless act—
these lights flicker, darken—and my heart sinks.
As conscience awakens, the lights surge—
and my world is revealed to me.
I know that light bulbs with loose debris,
rattling, can guide me no longer.
Inside, too, I sense forces
—body, mind, heart, spirit—
unrelated to each other, orphaned,
unable to light my way until they are
aligned, interwoven, synchronous.
I can only take baby steps
toward this vision,
but I have no recourse:
I align them as I can,
in the dark—reaching out
beyond my knowing,
in the direction of where
my own light’s source
might be. . .
must be. . .