Suddenly everything shifts into focus as if the reel has been meticulously adjusted to fit onto my screen

And I feel the rumble of the subway beneath me
And the rain begins to fall upon the sun kissed pavement
And I saunter out into the street where the path rises to meet me and only me

The sting of the bee puts everything into a hazy perspective
It tells me I am intelligent, yet unintelligent
It tells me I am listening, yet hearing nothing

The gust blows a strand of hair into my line of sight
I can no longer see the luminescent compass
I am at a loss that is unexplainable
I do not know where I am to go

Yet –

I know how to get there
No map, no guide, no compass to show me the road I am to follow
I don’t go into an anticipated frenzy

I have the Voice.

The Voice can soothe me, put me at ease, and relax me.
The Voice can worry me, raise caution, and create tension within me.
This temperamental being is my one and only guide, my one and only confidant, my one and only hope

And rightfully so!

Who can gauge the way one accepts a gift?
Can such things withstand measurement?
If so, can I measure it?
Or is it you that measures it?
I do know that the measure of a woman is not in how many steps she takes, but with how much passion she takes them

If the feet cannot walk, how can the mind explore?
If the eyes cannot accept, how can the heart stay true?
If the hands cannot snatch It, feel It, hold It,
Is It worth it?

The sand runs over my eyes and awakens me and begins to make itself known upon my face
I marvel at it for the sand is everlasting, yet transitory
It whispers to me and inspires my revelation:

I must abide by the voice, use the gifts
To follow the path to
The Undetermined Destination.