Somewhere in the distance an alarm is sounding.
For most, it’s transparent,
indistinguishable from the cacophony
of life’s noisy complexity,
causing no disruption in their slumber.
For others, it’s a whisper, one they
are convinced they are imagining,
hearing things perhaps.
One that causes but a shift from
one side of the bed to
the other as the night
becomes strange,
yet continues
For fewer, it’s an itch, a constant
distraction on the razor’s edge.
Like a dream, almost remembered
that slips away when attended to.
They stir in their sleep,
slouching toward morning,
holding on to night.
For fewer still, it’s deafening, impossible
to ignore, evolution, rising like the sun,
at times blinding in it’s beauty, with
a ferocity that demands an audience.
Those few are dreaming lucidly, fully aware
that waking is inevitable, yet still afraid
of the messy road that lay ahead.
Some have opened their eyes
only long enough to strike the alarm
in favor of five more minutes
For the fewest, sitting up in bed, eyes open,
alarm still ringing, groggy, like waking in a
strange bed, unsure of the surroundings.
Recognizing beauty, grateful for the
day, and the moment, coming to terms
with the messy nature of evolution;
so many sleeping in their bed around them as they
themselves, prepare to have their feet on the floor
And a handful have become the alarm.
Walking among the world,
careful not to disturb those
immersed in the dream,
whispering gently to fewer,
speaking quietly to fewer still,
wrapping their arms around the fewest,
rocking them gently,
and warmly embracing
the handful, reunited with
age old friends.
You will know them through
chance encounter, coincidence,
synchronicity, serendipity or happenstance.
You will find them in song, in poetry, in a
summer breeze, an old oak, in a comment
overheard in aisle seventeen.
Listen closely my love. And have no fear,
even the softest light when awakened
is brighter than the most brilliant sun of
the dream.
Somewhere in the distance an alarm is sounding,
calling you to see your own beauty,
to reject the insecurity,
**** the lies,
to recognize the
demons for what they are,
their costumes,
once so convincing,
look absurd in the light of day.
The lover that lied and the lies you tell yourself will
seem so unimportant as black light is useless
in the sun
You were made for the sun.
Somewhere in the distance an alarm is sounding,
it’s time my love, to wake up.
You’ll find me in the kitchen fixing breakfast, your favorite.