EARTHINCARNATION

By John Metcalfe

I lay restless

within our sterile bed,

sleep was hard to summon,

so I listened to the night instead.

So much noise,

air heavy with nocturnal unease,

whispers, like secrets,

told only to the breeze.

I thought about

the cyclical nature

of EarthIncarnation.

It starts with an adventure

on a journey to refresh.

From furnace or earthly dust reborn,

flesh and blood

in a different form.

Will I recognise you?

Will you make yourself known?

Will our history be erased?

Condemned or condoned?

What shape will you take?

will you haunt or embrace?

From your plain of existence

your celestial space.

Do experiences from the old life

transfer into the new?

Does love triumph over intolerance

the way it used to do?

Do feelings remain constant

or does time overturn grief?

Do we turn on our axis

and lay waste to belief?

I sense you

when I least expect it.

But I feel no fear,

I have learned to respect it.

Just knowing you are there,

in whatever incarnation,

gives me a choice to believe

in joy or damnation.

When sleep does arrive

it is not you I see,

nor anything resembling

what you used to be.

Once vibrant colours,

now a curtain of red,

and a black mood clouding

our turbulent bed.

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