The spring is in the air, still imperceptible, like a subtle smile, like a fresh young voice barely audible above the buzz of the crowd.
We don’t know what we’re asking for, but the Spirit himself pleads for us silently, in a breath which has yet to find the right words, as the soul finding the body.
The voice of the Spirit is heard from afar, a song with only scraps guessed: the time has come to heal the brokenhearted, to set free the oppressed, to return sight to the blind.
Just as mountains rise on the horizon at a sudden turn of the road, so too a time comes in life when the hidden becomes manifest.
Thank you for reading! By pure chance, this is is my 1000th post on the Steem blockchain (counting the comments). And the first harbinger of Spring, the Carnival, is already here in our town today!
- My sincere gratitude to the Isle of Write Poetry Pond workshop for deep feedback and precise suggestions.
- Photo by Samuel Ferrara on Unsplash.
- The Isle of Write logo below courtesy of @pegasusphysics.
My Other Poems
- The Power of Words
- The Day of Possible
- The Hidden World
- Time for Peace
- White Sun
- Freewriting before Christmas
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