The calling persists. An emerging feeling , friend or foe, reminding, yet tormenting. That inescapable drumming on the window to the universe. A complacent waking and stirring of invisible desire, mysteriously and persistently materializing just as all falls silent. Then pressing for action. Intrusive almost, without providing direction, at least not such as the mind seeks. The incessant knock, the untamed beast, forcefully rattling the binding chains. A cry for freedom in the electric muttering, passionately prodding a deeper longing, striking fertile ground. Without doubt there is a recipient to the call. A seed deliberately plunged into the waiting soul , one for each, distinct by design. A roar in a shell, aching to be freed, to plaster the canvas with life’s transmission.

Maybe choice, or fate, or the breathing ripples of being in this worldly experience. I am reminded of resistance or acceptance, taking hold of the inner force as if reaching out for the hand that guides the blind , a trusting endeavor. But really, I question choice: when life knocks, I answer. Lead on.