Winged Words Now Seen

I still miss the invisible.
My eyes have yet to see the unseen.
The intangible is no less real than what is before me.

The rain falls gently on the roof while I am asleep.
Blessings touch me.
I only know when I am awake.

I find the cicada shell on the tree.
The creature has flown away.
But I know it is here somewhere by what it has left behind and by its buzzing song in the air around me.
Revelations await the opening of wet wings.
Unspread they will not receive the sun’s warm kiss.

Yesterday’s silence is gone.
The words I longed for were waiting to be heard.
No longer fearful I place them as incense here.

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