The Light

The Light

The bounding light

A cold chill

A chant, vaporous and sustained

Then a clear voice

Telling me what I’m not prepared to hear.

If this were the 12^th century

Yes, the voice of God.

But now I have more options:

Hallucinations, schizophrenia,

Whacked out brain chemistry,

Someone on their cell phone.

Truly I want to believe

Be the Chosen One

Bring the world to its knees

Promising to do better

To give love a another look.

It it’s so, why me?

Why not you?

Maybe the light came to you

But you were not burned by it

And shrugged it off.

But I can’t do that

Yet, or at all.

I liked the music

Felt warm in the light

Even if I’ve yet to catch fire.