Suddenly a past event is not a memory, but a return to an instant.

An enlargement of a life spread out,

In previously separate episodes, but now;

A single documentary.

 

No rewind required, this solid-state disk sends me here and there,

At will, no prompting required.

Just a willingness to be aware,

Of what love has been before. And now.

Let me take another look,

A second glance perhaps.

This time without the dismissive or authoritative painted smile.

   

So, I can see and feel what you are asking with your eyes,

Not just the words emitted from a computer bank of disguises,

Learned from thousands of psych, make-over and desirous YouTube videos.

 

Let me see you, those pools of divine blackness in the eyes,

Directly connected to our hearts.

Another handcrafted invitation placed before my eyes;

Do I accept this time? Or even notice it?

  

Every stairway has a purpose, every door an opening.

I am a watcher by the stream,

longing for the cool, clear water to refresh me,

yet I cannot enter, for fear of where it will take me

dissolving my will

losing my status

giving in

to a journey and a path I cannot control.

  

So many others line the stream,

friends, others I don’t yet know, watch it, mesmerized it seems

by the sound of water and the eternal nature of its path.

Still I stand, now noticing all around me,

all transfixed on its path.

After some time, years or maybe seconds,

I suddenly jump in and find myself taken,

first scared as I am carried without a guide through white waters

in a seemingly uncontrolled ride.

 

Then suddenly, I am protected,

and the coolness turns to warmth as I enter the river.

And a sense of oneness overcomes me.

I feel the divine as God enters my soul

as a light ravishing me,

I continue to dissolve in His presence,

illuminating cold and empty places I dwelt moments before.

For all is now forgotten as I drift along an ever-slowing river.

Noticing others around me,

a communion of like souls drawn together,

as a salty taste fills the air,

we near the ocean of love.

 

The ocean where each drop makes it mark,

fills it role,

makes the taste that is God Himself,

as this ocean is His, as we are His.

At last together.

There is a stranger in my garden,

Not sure how they got there,

But even they don’t seem to fit … I like them a lot.

  

Whatever does this mean?