This powerful movement of God, this quiet whisper of the Spirit;

Urging my being to new horizons;

Places which are vaguely familiar, but where I have never before been.

Connecting to those whose inner graspings and longings are shared without articulation,

Knowing the agonizing brush with fulfillment; forever striving.

The world may be better, though we may not. 

Dreams blessedly elusive; visions, triumphs, tragedies.

Shaken from the cloud, conscious only of self;

To start anew in lonely pursuit with fellow dreamers and prophets.

By Greg Gast