The Sacred

It sort of happens on the indirect route, really.
When I’m at play, chatting.
It is like the span of my vision becomes a screen,
Controlled by remote and slowed.

- Like I’m suddenly aware of the situation,
- Like I’m watching me from behind,
From something else’s eyes.

It is as if I was going about my business,
And somewhere back there at the edge of my radius,
A power moved by, and I sensed it.

And it is the same scene before me - nothing changed.
Yet it somehow becomes all sacred,
The walls, sidewalks, and cars going by exist in a sort of meaning
- not normally experienced, as if they hide some great -

Presence.

Indefinable, misunderstood, but inevitably “here.”
No words of thunder, no revelation
- just the faint sense of mysterious wonder.

As if in another dimension, God walked by
And the vastness of His presence bled through the boundary
- I caught a whiff of it on the drive-by.

A sacred moment – in the everyday,
And the picture returns to normal and life gathers pace again
And the moment fades.

Yet still I wonder, what was that? What did I miss?
And how do I get all of my moments to tinkle with that Magic,
- All of my times to freeze
Like the climax of the movie’s turning point:

Profound meaning is injected into the story,
And it all becomes special, it all becomes real.