An election of my days
Become temporal like clouds

This quiet sits down once in
Each and every day a

Sound evaporates with the
Constancy of tears in daylight

Sends its message in
Degrees of Tangibility

Its undercurrent of awareness
Awry in the aire of now, encloses

The Hall of lost thought
In an orientation of

Redemptive purpose this –
My own periphery spherical

An etymology of decision
Begins the entanglement

Of entelechy, becomes
Simple consciousness found

As my soul becomes
Manifest in this earthen life

 
© K. James Ribble