One from among the many,
Able to escape at last,
leaving the multitude,
writhing behind me.
One of eight billion,
just one from among many,
who will rise up
pierce the egg,
and give Holy Birth,
within the Heart of God.
This chrysalis,
this potential of light,
what is spoken to you,
what tear filled thoughts.
flow…
flow on and on,
begging and pleading;
yet lead me on an altered path.
Let me not be found in pleading,
I yield my lips and heart and head,
so my mother might reach into the substance of me,
transforming me,
informing my heart,
of how to play the melodies,
that send my God into ecstasy.
And cast down my supplications,
my muffled cry,
and rather teach me to sing.
Show me how to soar,
for everything that I am,
is held secure in you.
Teach my lips,
to sing your praise,
and after a long day of labor,
with sweat on my brow,
bent over with burdens,
that only I can know,
give this worn out body,
the strength to lift up my hands
in praise of only You.
What do the eight billion speak to you?
Of all the choices,
of all the possible words,
which do they call to you.
Do the voices call in love,
do the voices bless,
do the voices shout
and curse,
as if to strengthen
this fortress,
of flesh and blood
defending their bitter past?
Eight billion souls,
flowing stealthily
quietly,
moodily chasing some dream,
passing unseeing,
the ever-existent sublime.
Flowing, flowing,
from the midst of your being,
do they ever find your love?
Do they ever capture you,
or your essence?
Do you ever embrace one another
in a fit of madness,
under a fever of love?
Is their longing as mine?
What do the 8 billion speak,
in hushed whispers to you?
If I could speak in one voice for them.
I would call down abundant blessing
upon each and every one,
lost among the eight billion,
so they might see the light of God
illuminate their souls.
And I would watch in awe
as the souls of the 8 billion,
lit up with your great love.
Father, forgive them,
they know not what they do.
They are clueless in their form,
which has captivated their being,
the form that deceives,
the form that captures,
well nurtured beliefs,
cast from lumpen clay,
that only our own eyes
have the ability to see.
See the eight billion before you,
be merciful to them I pray,
They carried untold burdens,
while seeking the hidden path,
detached from pain and sufferings,
that leads to you.
Within your merciful heart,
the voice that speaks to you,
it calls you to descend,
to climb down from upon that thrown,
so that you might illuminate the Path,
for one of the billion souls,
who have flowed out of You.
Father, Mother, Bless your children,
Each and every one.