Bethel Moment

What was it with poetry that made me have a bethel moment?

Was it Shakesphere's romantic cadence, "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"

When two roads diverged into a yellow wood.

The gruesome, spellbinding, poems of 

Edgar Allan Poe that paused my euphoria and is still apart of me to this day.

Or was it my pychologist in the time of adveristy that recited to me "Still I Rise"?

Hmm. I suppose all of them.

The lingering dust of history's shame that is cesssion on a window seal of society. 

To see our founding fathers legacy roll over in their graves over the rebirth of 

inequality, unjustice, mass shootings, and gun violence.

A tangible voice within me that longed to breath. 

A dare to write like Dr. King,

Fall in love like shakesphere

And have verses and flow like no other.

A motive to be salt in light into a broken society

and turn despair inside out; aligned with Mark Twain's famous motto. 

A prophectic word given to me at an incipient age proclaiming

I'm the flickering light on a flame in a dark place and people are driven towards it.

Yes, I suppose that was my bethel moment.