the hours before sunrise

the hours before sunrise, the working hours of my day, when the light is a prescience of faith, that each day a new sun will rise and the world will continue and no matter what prevails there will be life and love and joy available in this heart. I sense the mingling of forces, powers, energetic waves and tides that surround every living thing and rest quiescent in the deepest matter and unliving forms. in the hearts of men the power is unleashed and dynamic touching upon everything in the consciousness, alive, nervous seeking relaxing. each beings signature of flow and touch is like a fingerprint or a face, each beautiful and alive each a mirror to the heart and mind a doorway to the soul. i feel every moment a life coming a life touching another and another and as the room fills the energy becomes like a wildfire smoldering, unstoppable and dangerous waiting only for a breeze to spring to action, to consume to experience each and every possibility of union and destruction, of mastery and control, of mate and matter, the quest never ends but continues as if alone as each moment a billion strands of a billion lives entwine everywhere around you. this world circles as the energy bends in the cosmic flow that surrounds this planet and carries it with the solar stream through endless space, yet here it is the unaware, the quiescent and dormant nascent awareness that dominates that envelopes life and tamasicaly deepens the unconsciousness around everyone and everything, to not know to not sense the endless burning light in space and not feel the wind of the earths rotation or the alignment to the center of the galaxy that every orbit brings to each being upon this tiny globe of organic matter surviving in empty space for billions of untold eons as men and their embodied spirits evolve and practice and slumber upon this earth. the light comes as the rooster crows and what of the night and its revelations, for day is come and the heavens but for the shining orb of the sun is gone and even the smallest passion of men supplants the need to know more and ends the thoughts that trouble the hearts of poets and seers, for the sight cannot be unseen and the knowledge is not words but the truth is plain in every place, this life this heart this moment is god redeeming and forgiving and giving eternal service to the creations that are here.