Without escape, the man at the front of class talked and dove deeper, as the lights dimmed.

A psychologist, who could find no other place to practice was here,

In a room full of prisoners, unwilling to face their demons.

He continued …

 

“You may think you won’t have to face your demons”,

“But you will” … “I will keep asking until you tell me”

“The childhood secret, what went wrong, the inflection point”

And then, silently the anger rose in all, like a chorus, until we started to leave.

 

I tasted real danger, terror, for a first and eternal time.

 

This great experiment of change,

And the desire to do so,

Or just to have,

Drives most everything.

 

My animal instincts,

To be warm, fed well, to have enough,

Or even more.

To propagate the species, to love; and to be in control of others.

 

Oh misplaced love, how you have abused my soul,

Tricking me into mistaking love for lust,

And desire for a holy longing,

All to make change happen, both good and bad.

 

Yet, all these desires reach their fulfillment through change,

At the instant when desire becomes passion,

And is completed in acting,

With or without reference to You.

 

In a shame filled analysis, where only truth is left in the room,

It is all my fault, or not.

The good is all You, where selflessness reigns,

And gluttony, lust and self-gratification where I stood, attempting to win.

 

For now, I see it clearly,

All change comes from within, and its consequences.

But only good will come through You.

I am a mere reflection.

 

Of the scene that is my life. Like a river viewed through Your lens; fragments in focus, some not.

 

Raised and now blown strangely by the wind,

Normally grounded, but designed to fly,

Gravity defied; providing a few moments of freedom,

Where the view changes, dramatically.

 

Are these glimpses of God?