feel a coming
riffles
grey, white,
pastel blue,
riffled,
scattered clouds,
high above my head
riffled air
riffled thoughts
bent by thick density
there's a density in the air,
riffled traffic surrounds me
i can't see the occupants,
encased by metal
and darkened glass,
and i sense
a tension contained therein
i sensed it during the holidays,
even now,
no reprieve
an approaching storm, . . .
when it hits
mostly all,
will be caught off guard
riffled road,
bending the atmosphere,
above it's dirty black,
grey,
dreary surface,
surrounding
everything,
hitting my face
things are shaking,
things are shaking,
i can feel the vibrations,
things are shaking
more and more
not everyone feels it yet,
. . .
but
some are waking up
more and more,
how many are waking up
from Woke?
i don't know yet,
but most will wake
when the riffles
become smooth
unwrinkled,
flat planes of truth
and what's right
you'll know it when you feel it
when blue skies,
will be bright
and clean sunlight,
comes
with
real clouds,
soft and billowy,
utterly clean air above
with songs
in the atmosphere
surrounding
everything around us
then,
i will feel through,
even metal and glass,
even with people in cars,
in thick traffic,
surrounding me,
i will feel their love,
emitting
a bright energy
radiating
their wakefulness,
filling every pore
of my surroundings
by the changing of the guard
with a restored freedom