The Desert

 

What shall happen next...

  Will have to be 

Nothing short of the miracle I am determined 

     To ground. 

It is, 

  In practice, 

That I put the excuses down. 

  In practice. 

What happen's now, 

  Is a re-defining. Centuries overdue. 

Decades too late. 

  But it's gotta get done. 

It took me 40 years on the run...

  Only to wind up exactly where I started. 

This time. 

  I sit. 

  I sit in it, saturate and soak myself. 

I let the synapses meld the cognition 

  Into coherent forms. 

Embodiment. 

  What happens now? 

Well now....

  Who could know?! 

That's the beauty burst of the work. 

  Shedding layers like snake skins. 

Discovering a soul that has no relation

  To the ego you built yourself to be- 

      Devoid of God. 

What happens now, 

     Is mutable. 

     Flexible. 

Of any direction 

   In any form. 

Yet...

  Of course, 

There are certain courses that still guide me. 

  All this work done, 

And I aware, still, 

  I am only novice. 

Oh, but just underneath 

  This skin suit...

A primordial and ancient being 

That needs no room to see 

Through such limitations of spectrum 

As the human being 

   and her eyes. 

So I sit. 

And Spirit whispers to me of "embodiment" 

While I open my ears, intently, to listen. 

  Intentional Work. 

Grounded Intentional Positivity. 

Pulling all my energy back to me, 

Where rather it sits so often in the fields with others. 

Shielding. 

Prayer. 

Open meditation for insight. 

  It had all been there....

Yet I made excuses for years 

Stuck in the dual consciousness 

 Of Victim and Master 

 Of Child & Savior 

Of Lover, 

 Destroyed by Love. 

40 years. In the Desert. 

  40 years. 

So that when I finally walk free...

  There will never be an ungodly chain 

       Upon me. 

So that when I heal this time...

   

   It will be whole. Not halved. Not incomplete. 

     Not subconsciously suppressed 

        Or addictions ruling me. No. 

40 years it took to get here. 

  This was the journey, 

The intention; the point. 

  And I have been called. 

  A long time, I had. 

I just didn't have it then. 

Couldn't get to it. Couldn't fix or heal the wounds yet- 

I was trudging mud. 

  A desert of Mud. 

     Undrinkable. 

           Toxic

So that I could become aware...

The only thing sustaining me 

            was Him. 

40 years. 

  A sentence Redeemed.