Advent

(MTF) Advent


"I love the spiritual realm but rarely will tap into it." B. Martin



A reality of life is the constant waiting.
We wait in lines, we wait for punch lines,
We wait, a minute , a lifetime, to leave , to return,
We wait for beginnings and for endings.


Monet waited daily for
The unraveling of colors over rooftops,
The shifting hues against clouds and stone walls.
Miles Davis waited for blue notes,
Tobey for white noise inspirations,
Angelou waited for a time of telling
Why a caged bird sings.
I’ve waited in a wilderness without words,
Waited, like a noun for the right verb
To move a sentence.


Advent is spiritual , creative,
An unrelenting plea to choose
And enter into holy places,
Into the realm of trust and entrusting ourselves
To unravel like colors on a canvas,
Telling the truths of our light And dark illuminations


Waiting in the silences.
Waiting, in the spaces between words.
For a new song to emerge,
Lyrical and buoyant
With words perfectly intended ,
To woo and evoke,
To conjure and remember
The opus magnum that I am