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The Light of inspiration

Piercing,
A shaft of sunbeam through the morning mists,
An idea in the midst of rambling turmoil,
A clear direction in the swamp of notes and lists,
An indication of an outcome of my toil.

Piercing,
The call of a lone bird among the choirs,
Of singing frogs, rustling of reeds and ripple sounds,
The point of reference my path requires,
That clarifies, halts me, turns me around.

Piercing,
The sudden realization that an error is there,
The imperative to find a way to make it right,
The little spark that grows, new ways to bare,
bringing to a too long darkened place new light.

Piercing,
The Word that separates the truth from errors,
That brings the possibility of life to light,
And, instead of condemnation shares,
The power to make the wrong or chaos right.

02/19/2011 Carol Morfitt
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