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Confessions of a Clairvoyant

My mortal eyes hardly discerned
the first portholes,
to scan the grid
of warped and waffled panes.

Each an intrusive facet.
A peekaboo glance.
My naked fingertips barely
slipped over the window sill.
To SEE.

And yet, intrinsically I already knew.
Those were glints of my destiny.
Overwhelmed, I retreated.
Afraid. Confused. Throwing the curtains shut.

Curious. Why me?
Why should I KNOW, what I should not?

Yet I returned to the grid of panes.
The obscure glass thick, yet discernible.
As a tree grows to branch out, so did I.
My branches reached out to crack the glass ceiling.
And, shattered each into a shard of prisms.
I shunted the panorama.
Closed the damn curtain.
Yet the lit peepholes ignited…
To beg, tease, and beckon my return.

Curious. Why me?
Why should I SEE

The holes in my broken heart ahead.
Would they ever mend me whole again?
How would I survive the knowing?
Each window pane was lifeless. A mirror reflecting.
Each a puzzle piece; a channeled link.
Every breeze of recognition ripped the drapes open.

Curious. Why me?
Why should I HEAR

The whispers of silent sentences,
To which I defied and ignored.
But, IT happened anyway.

Was there NO choice in a preordained life?
Was MY Muse paving the path?
My fate sealed?
And my body and brain marionetted?
Puppeteered by ONE master maker?

The strings tugged, taunted.
Go here. Over there. Not now. Do IT.
My oak trunk thick, steady, and strong.
My branches sky-bound to shred the cloak.
Thirsty for the illumination;
Dauntless to the phantom of darkness.
My roots entrenched in the void of the sublime.
By osmosis my veins absorb the food of freedom.

Curious why me?
Why should I be…

The one with stealth insights,
To possess an umbilical cord to the divine,
And, be conscious of creation beyond dreams?

I am no one special.
Every one is extra-ordinary.

Curious. Why me?
Why am I fluent with the cosmos?

Just because I am curious?

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No reprints or copying without permission of the author, Patty Ann.