There is always (re-post)

There is something unrelenting

present within about us

that is quite amazingly timeless.

But we are like damp matches

in confined quarters of intention

with already three strikes against us.

We are still combustible

but in a volatile sense,

flammable in an emotional sense,

ignitable in a contextual sense

but lacking the light-sight

in a deeper sense.

We seem too high

on the mountain of ideals,

for there appears to be

too little air to truly ignite,

too open to a windy

yet confounding reality distraction

for the flame to stay lit

through it all

and too emotionally weepy

and inattentively sorrowful

for a dryness

to bring us down into a calm.

It is also not clear anymore

where to take the flame

or the flame would take us.

I would feel blessed

by its magic in its happening

and cursed

by my inability to realize its worth.

But I hold true to its value

and wish for a sign

of light intended direction.

I am calling out

in my openness to being,

to place me

in right action and intent.

Where as we flounder,

I am sadden

by the moments that pass.

Each moment is anew

and I am wanting for light-sight

to be brightly that opening.