Renewing the old Gift

I stand in silent stills,

photographed in black and white

waiting for dreams to coalesce with the spirit

and transform into color.

Waiting, for action.

Action speaks,

but speaking does not action ignite.

A spark. It requires; that infant child

of fire, so often extinguished before it can

fulfill a promise made when Prometheus

first broke the law of Gods and gave hope to man.

But, when a spark serendipitously finds the right dream,

the right idea,

a miracle occurs, small light becomes luminous,

filling not only the surrounding void,

but an unnoticed void in hearts and minds.

True fire spreads.

Our mortal limitations oft prevent us from

seeing the simplicity of change.

We think in grandiose terms,

and with those Titans looming over head,

cower in their shadow and concede that one

soul cannot change the world, cannot cause

the tide to shift and oceans to rise.

Doubt is the devil we have created;

for shame, for convenience and for fear.

Fear of failure and ridicule.

One spark may not immediately proffer

the change our chained souls grave.

But a word, a gesture, can spread

from one fire maker to the next.

And, with time, in time the world

is not as it was before, and we are more

than, in the beginning, we believed we could ever be.