The Tea of Fear

It Began as Another
Black Hole Monday.

My Beloved Handed Me
Her Motion To Reconsider
My Auto-Reply to
Her Request
To Plan a Roadtrip
To Adventureville.

My Reply had been Steeped In
the Tea of Fear of
Being Required To
Do Something
Besides Worship Calendars
Empty of Anything
But The Promise of
Nothing To Do.

This Fear of
Something To Do,
the Deadening Sin of Sloth,
Has Been On My Back
Like a Pariah’s Pack,
a Bedroll of the Banal.

I’ve Begged The
Beyond The Veil,
The Love and Light and Laughter
Coming from
The Creator’s Café,
for a Menu of
the Medicinal Miraculous.
I Want to Order
Some Sort of
Divine Deliverance.

This Monday Morning
I was Taken to
a Secret Entrance to
The Mystery,
The Source of
The Breath of
The Beauty of
Benevolence.

My Light Being Guide
Handed Me a Key,
then Said,

“The Next Time
You’re Asked To
Reconsider Your Refusal
To Breathe Even a Breath
of Rigor,

Put This Key
To the Door of
The Mystery,
and Whisper:

‘I Think I’ll
Just Do It and
See What Happens.’

Then Walk
Through the Door.”

(Photo by Tarik Haiga; UnSplash)