Echoes No.1: Under A Dark Sky

I rose early today. I waited patiently for the sky to unfold its glory and spread its light. But the sky remained stubbornly overcast and no golden light poured over me. Still even the faintest morning light traces a single path to discoveries. To walk that path is to be a man or a woman who lives the living truth. The morning arrived in its due time. It knows its place in the world is modest and transient. And it does not need to promise us more than that time we spend together when the world allows us to be together You may not believe this yet but the promise was revealed by an angel who descended from the moon in a sacred mist, and then returned fulfilled to the hidden king. The sky today was just a locked room, hoarding its beauty. No light came forth into our selves from that blank expanse. But your words, alive in your poem, released a rescuing light that brightened this day of gloom. And my poem caught fire from yours and now it is poised to inspire you. You may not believe this but you will because it is simply your heart which rises every morning to spread its light. (This poem is a response to "Where Has the Angel Voice Gone? " by Baharak Barzin.)