Manifesto

I’ve learned that things
never flow the way I want them;
not through the sweet fog of reverie
or by the anguish of restless desire.
They always come unannounced,
unbidden, and through secret corridors -
at the point where I had relinquished hope
by failing to envision their eventuality

Rarely do I receive the asked for gift;
the present is ever one degree beyond
or is lagging behind its boundless potential -
dissipating within my yearning.
Lost to the next day’s sheen.

Truth flails behind layers of verisimilitude
and sends out its urgent call.
My lids grow heavy with its spell.
I fight to awaken to the clarion voice,
but it draws me deeper into shadow;
leaving me with formless words from
a mind listening to infinite silence.

© 2004 Melissa Songer