Cruinne - for the love of love

When I hear the music coming from the tunnel of light, I cannot help but feel humbled, and disgusted with myself. There is a thundering drum going on in my head, (or is it my heart) that is leading a bunch of molecules to an imaginary war that is more alive than you or me. I want to search for hidden clues, and leap over oceans, and kneel at the grave of the Goddess. I cannot help but feel ashamed that I have not paid my dues, and served the world.
When the lights go out and I am naked beneath the stars and all of their eyes, I realize that it is really just me and the Universe - judging each other. We are sizing each other up, valiant knights in armor that protect all of the simpletons - and I just that. A simpleton, a gray brain in a tower of translucent iron. I am reaching for you, Universe. I am sending out my tears as tiny drops of hopeful servitude.
Seeking to protect, to defend, to declare a message that will not just open eyes and minds, but also hearts and arms. I am driven by a force wilder than summer storms that break states apart the seams. The same storm that founded governments and changed rules that did nothing but kill innocence. As long as there are notes on a staff, I will never end this battle. As long as there is grass, sunning itself and catching rays, I will always go further and deeper than anyone else. A career in politics, no. A career folding laundry, no. At times, I wonder if anyone feels this drum also. I wonder if money and deceitful friendship has blinded everyone.
But you cannot blind someone like me. You cannot blind someone who does not see with their eyes, but instead with their feet. Running faster into the distance to make a new world for little babies with tempestuous hearts. Hearts that are ready to earn their place at the throne of the goddess, to be able to put their palms up to the sky and say, "I am here. Make me great, not for myself, but for the great good of everyone." Eager ears, and escalating volumes of the sound of their own voices ringing in the wind, this world is just on loan to us from our children. When I see a child, I see someone I owe something to. I see the light carriers, the torch lighters, the ones who will drift me into my twilight.
Make me great, but not for myself, but for everyone. Make my prayers be heard, make my spells be spectacular nets to catch desires with. Make my feet swift, ready to collect needful things for needful people. And then, let me rest alongside the ocean, when the Universe will send me home - finally.