Living in mystery

Mystery is without.

Unseen yet felt, a hint that breathes a fragrance of possibility. Unknown, yet hauntingly familiar, this tendril calls each one forward. It is an echo of a song that is new, and so I ponder – how can I hope for something that I have not yet known? Yet I do!

Stirrings, that hint of things that are shaking. Imponderables that move with a precision which I can’t define! Force that quiets my heart and yet makes it beat wildly. It clearly is an invitation to each one who has any sense of imagination. Questions in the night!

Sleeping, yet on the verge of wakefulness. Images cascade and grand visions speak portents of destiny – which slowly fade as I awake. Disturbance quivers on the surface of my soul as if brushed by a touch of electricity. I seek, yet I cannot speak!

Confidence – courage leaping as if a trout out of water; explosive in it’s expression! Where did that come from? Out of the depths, unusual images that impinge on mundane circumstances. Familiarity shifts, momentary fractals appear in my reality. Why now?

A greater reality sits behind. I run and yet I hope I am found! Purpose chases me and I myself seek answers to enigmas within my being. Fountains hint at vitality that should be, but somehow fades! The mystique of an essence trapped within yet waiting to kiss my future.

Mystery is within.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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