a starseed confession redux (audio poetry 4:24)

i confess that i do not feel native
to this blue-green orb
and i confess that nonetheless
i have come to appreciate my earthly existence
the gentle dance of rain upon my skin
trembling fingers entwined in my own
the splendor of ripened fruit fresh from the tree

i confess that much of my life has been marked by alienation
that i have been judged and misunderstood
and seemingly set aside as i sought to bring my very essence to light
and i confess even so
that persecution has never wholly trumped passion
doubt has visited yet rarely unpacked
i have stumbled and fallen yet faith never failed to gather me up

this i willingly confess:
my unleashed spirit has more than once led me
into agreements i could not sustain
broken hearts including my own were left in a wake of disunity
i am no stranger to a well-barbed lure
and if nets were tossed by my own hand
i confess i was merely seeking nourishment
beneath the froth that scutters the surface of the everyday

this i tell you now:
many a night have i spent in the company of my own wounding
and for every moment i lingered in the light of love
i thrashed in the darkness ten moments more
many a temple i entered in sanctuary and divine grace
draped in silk and carried upon the backs of wing-ed beings
until my return to a landscape unadorned by the sacred and beset by suffering

i confess that even while imprisoned by forces large and powerful
i feathered a nest and brooded my own becoming
held myself close and embraced the never-ending wait
that even now crawls as a snail to its holy destination
i confess that even though my words carry a hint of melancholia
a peace resides at their core that transcends the unnecessary
that washes over me in an endless shower of emergent truth

i confess that with choice in hand
and heart broached beyond all measure real and imagined
given a choice to dance in the light or preen in the darkness
I will always choose the road home
and in that comfort find the everlasting solace
i confess i oft felt was out of reach
yet even now in the waning days of discomfiture
i confess i have always known that illusion would in time dim and die

and that time, i confess,
has arrived
bearing gifts for the unheard
and fresh regard for the not-seen