Through A Sense of Revival

On The Express Train. Cause – I’m rejuvenated. By a sense of revival. I feel it deep in my toes. I’m curling up again. Beginning to blush. Feeling the rush but I’m shy by the awakening. I feel like a young boy at the altar. I feel the fans sweeping against my face. I’m sweating. Through a sense of revival, I have become the reviver. I have renewed again by the steps set before me. I know I have to keep pushing and going after what awaits me.

I feel goosebumps crawling over me; it’s making me weep. Now I’m feeling weak. My eyes are closed yet my eyes see very bright lights. Tongues are likened to fire. Many of them are speaking; I recognize some of them but many of them sound misguided.

When looking around – I hear voices of change intending to manifest a revolution. Everyone is fierce with fire to bring about a realm of difference. A change is gonna come, a new way of living. Curiously, I wonder how will anything ever happen? Seeds are being planted, but the gardeners take a vacation soon afterward. People are not always responsible for the seeds they plant. They trust too easily in the unknown process. They hope it will rain and hope the sun will shine but have no clear knowledge of whether the soil is fertile enough.

Everywhere you go, people are saying this and saying that. A lot of them are saying it because they heard someone else say the same or similar things.

People usually reflect the environment they are raised to believe as valid. People are usually just believing until they experience a difference. People have to understand themselves before they can understand others. People like to do things then do nothing at all. People like to stand silent while someone else talks. People are kept with their traditions and are stubborn to believe otherwise. People want change but fail to acknowledge the mirror. People consume a lot of toxic things and believe they are being informed by those toxic things. People forget people remember. People are always doing something and nothing at all.

When I turn the knob, a room full of mystery awaits me. The unknown is carried with a promise of greater and lesser. The signal is clear and my understanding has been renewed.

Being brought back to life – I’m the reviver of chance. Words are translating into symbols – interpretation is gaining awareness of the game. A game that involves worthy cards which are shuffled at the will of the joke. I’m still the Jester – and with witticisms, I am free to possess the cards of chance. I know what is about to happen, no need to explain – only to perform. If I was to tell myself the very thing my dreams made clear – I’d have to lucidly experience my waking point.

To experience the very things I see as symbols. To encrypt the door of mystery is to decode all of the steps in a blur. The veil of the unknown is all I can see. I only know what has been invisibly sent out. Clues have become the aroma of my disappearance. Within the cancellation of presence is only a renewal of vision. My spirit is not limited by gravity – for I can not come down.

I’m seeing 7 – no matter where I look. I am finding the recurring seven.