Phoenix
by Dale J. Sprague
Reveries
6.1998 I have fear. I fear change, and it comes in all sizes. And until it is immediately impending, I never know what size the change is going to be. I never know how much an experience of love will illuminate, how much of the unknown will be made known.
The grim reaper's scythe is made of light. From its deep dark orbs, a flash of light, and in that instant when its scythe severs the air, a channel of light is conveyed to some darkness in me that has never before seen the light of day. When this day dawns, I break and die.
I am not an academic, nor an intellectual in that sense. The academics make me speechless when they speak. What they say seems familiar. How they say it makes me feel alien. They slow me down because to live, feel the life, I experience what love compels me to experience. They block my way..cloud my vision, my space. They group and huddle while I escape into the free night air. They cling onto..and hug each other, and shiver and quake in the wake of a new idea, as they altogether strain against the dawning of its new day.
I fear the scythe. Who knows what death will bring!..clarity in one eye, a whole new set of cataracts in the other. But love is a greater force. Bearing the fear, feeling it, small or great, whatever adrenalin is rushing..facing its current simply means..love rules.