somethings are born

others are made

some are born to

be made into pillars

of fire saved from

being salt statues

in a desert buried under

sand unseeing unknowing

never moving but acolytes

are hedged all around by

fate providence the shadow of destiny

beckoning as clearly as your

mother’s voice calling

teachers find you perhaps sleeping

or running away maybe falling down

they bring light so if you are willing

to open your eyes sight is possible

they offer directions to the path

they will not clear the rocks

they will provide tools yes they give

assignments you are free to run from

you will without doubt find your

self in the desert buried in sand no matter

where you intended to hide there is light

there is darkness you can’t stand in both

you must choose to be chosen you are free

to refuse being touched by greatness you

may remain ordinary or maybe you will

be an extraordinary example of the suffering

encountered by those who

refuse gifts  opportunity duty

to be free of the yokes placed on

acolytes who learn the steps at

the masters feet and dance in

their shadows remembering to change

the steps when the path is blocked

remembering to remember there

is a path never losing sight  of why

they are in the room waiting like

sleepers in a cell to become the

thing whispered in their ears before

first waking holding their place in the story

with their being exploding purpose like

a landmine rippling breaking barriers

sending a beacon to the ones who come after

the acolyte becomes the teacher