Act Of Creation

On the ropes
oh-boy-does-life-add-up,
building and
building and
building a
story told orally
or written on tissues
stained by pure red ink and
every past moment walling
you in, closing
closing - can you feel it?
Can you dig? deep,
in the ooze,
the birthplace of you,
spent days and nights
spent battling
the rattling ghosts
in your dreams.
This is not about the moment;
no longer concerns power, nay~
this has everything to
do with peering into mirror
and respecting who looks back,
be able, willing to, and ready to
focus, yes! - only
this will turn swimming-in-blue
to surfacing. And so,
when it is your "time" the
angels shall come sit upon your
chest as you rest, smiling,
stroking your head as a signal.
Never has providence been so divine.
Is it your time?
Is it your "time"?