We’re the last who know what the world was like before,
when the Earth spun softly, its attention unfractured,
our edges weren’t worn away by modernity’s grind,
executives in skyscrapers hadn’t hi-jacked our minds,
Memories cling like damp leaves to forgotten paths,
the air was rich enough to relight our souls.
In this solemness, we knew to search for shards of brilliance,
tiny glimmers of radiance buried there in plain sight,
Each fragment, a fleeting future,
something profound that slipped through our fingers,
leaving only the ignorant ache of its passing,
and then the distractions, disinformation, the amnesia.
The divine is still hiding behind these prosaic moments.
In the pause between breaths, the space between thoughts,
It’s not exactly a god but it is a current,
what we’re made of and all we’re meant to be,
It's what drew us from the shallow tides and
drowns us in depths we’re afraid to dream of,
Deep living is total surrender, a reckless plunge,
letting go of the ropes that tether us to hollow words.
It’s a faith that synchronicity will be our perfect mentor,
teaching us more than we think we need to know.
Each of these moments of lucidity swell, unscripted,
stripping away the clichés we wear like armor,
until we’re naked, trembling, so alive.
A passion that carves rivers through stone,
and never asks permission.
It surges, unyielding, through the frailty of our frames,
binding us to the eternal, the fleeting, the now,
until we are no longer just ourselves, we are everything.
~Eric Vance Walton~
(Gif sourced from Giphy.com)
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