There is a constant mystery
which beckons me.

We go about our time
in
clickety clakity clarity
routine
clockwork puppets
marching in time
to
bad relationships
toxic jobs
frozen states of mind
wed to routine
married to the grind.

When a mild minor
barely alive flickering
a little flame
smaller than a bic lighter
ignites
and
the straight and narrow
develops
not just a *** hole or sinkhole
but
a geyser that shoots you out.

The next moment
you're taking your clothes out of the closet
walking out of an office with the meeting waiting
getting on a plane
lining up for a train
hopping in the car
Sayonara.

Revolution is in the air
the program has changed
you sit in that rocking chair
the last piece of furniture
in
an ending chapter
and
realizing
the previous moments of life
the identity of who you once were
is
dead and gone
all that had defined you is done.

This is the mystery
which speaks to me
in
deaths and resurrection
rebirth
what begins as a decision
becomes the riding
of
a wave
crashing
thrashing
heading for the sand
heading for the light
will I be all right
praying to Jesus
wondering
where you'll emerge
as melancholy
longing
displacement
excitement too
reigns
and
the change
the revolution concludes
and
you become
a
new form of you.