The Descent into Ascension

The black gaping maw of possibility
awaits a button pressed in expectation
of stories played before my eyes
like the memories of never been.

I await transportation to lands
far beyond the six feet between
myself and the box composed of
atoms that bend space and time.

Energize inspiration with the
power of now seemingly wasted,
spent watching, storing up
ideas of scattered leaves.

A notebook filled, slowly,
churning, burning, evolving
in midnight oil, lost in
dreams of night's sweet bliss.

Discovered again, renewed by
dawn's gentle light through
window's break, reborn in the
phoenix flames of inspiration.

A new idea, never thought that
before, upon the earth turning
through dark matter never ceasing,
never ending; searching for life.

Found, in new words never written,
a story unfolds upon the back of
all that came before, spiraling
anew into the Age that lies beyond.

Beginnings of happenings that will
lead us into tomorrow, seeking all
that was thought lost but now is
found within a soul's kiss; everlasting.

The Age of Awakening approaches like
a thief in the night to steal away
our restless slumber and create in us
all that we never dreamed we could be.