Kathleen Morgan October 1st, 2012
Yes it was me, I was the one
chosen to share the morning sun,
I heard the voice through other lips
touched by invisible fingertips.
The songs selected lingered there
amongst the pages and tangled hair.
I’d had the dream years before
the meanings laced in metaphor
able to unlock, open the door,
setting me off on a path to explore.
Putting in play, a script unwritten
improvised with a touch of intuition,
a rhythmic humming mystery dance,
inducing hidden senses within it’s trance.
Awareness shined off reflected glass
enabling a certain clarity to pass
between what was known once to be real,
exposing many new sensations to feel,
revealing what was in a different light
what was wrong may now be right.
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