Wake Me, and I Will come

If I could turn my every waking moment
into fully awake,
we would finally know the answers
to every unanswered Why.

As Gods, we would rise,
our tunics short;
as long as wasting days –
never seeing the crisp sun’s rise –
laying the stench
of cannot do
at the feet of our fallen angels,
leaving their dying gold
and beings
to the confluence of time itself
(circles leave no corners – pure light expands
exponentially,
illuminating the hourglass and all
into which she delves)
with hands
that dare not dream.

Succor is but a dream,
for this space of no space;
this moor of no safe harbor –
I beg you,
come to me as light seeking
no hiding place,
only your stretch of imagination,
and an endless string
of realized moments

at rest.

© Kristin Reynolds 6 20 09

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Tags:

breath, desire, life, light, love, man, time, waking from the long sleep and woman