This is what

happens, every time

This is what happens, every time!

I rise, knowing

Martin Luther, Siddhartha,

and the Grand Nanak, yet unknowing.

I rise, pushing

the labyrinth of my being to almost the

breaking point to unlock the purpose!

I rise, falling

vulnerably from the fortress of

dark, sequestered dungeons of myself.

I rise, charging

and fatigued as I travel toward the light

of my cave, wretched, unpredictable theatre

of memories

I rise, clinging.

Just when I have the answer dancing

on the very tip of my tongue and being...

I awake.