The Calling

Why do I write 

in writhe and torment

when in sleepful bliss

of noncommittal I

could wile oblivious

in graying, wrinkled sheets

to the march of time?

But nooo,

no complacent composure

comes my way...

I have been chosen

in tantrum and doubt

to lead a new age

from dreams of Atlantis.

A fluffy bunny

in striped chenille

mocked in dark shadows

and conservative concentrics

makes time,

as words flip

like hotcakes on a griddle.

The vision came in aural

afterglow of iced magic,

whiskey ether, while nesting

in a religious

ecstasy of suspension.

Woman come hither

and listen...

the healing is coming

to balance the scale

in dark and light

of a fish swirl.

I listened....

Boldly carve your char

and gristle, dissect

the meat from the

bone of your honesty -

let go...

Questions and protests

surfaced and melted...

Kindly find the voice

in words

for laying of hands

to those who would listen -

no tricking,

it's time to care. 

I wept...