Waking In The Sweet Mystic

Will I be sucked into the sweet mystic
Sometime soon
I worry?
 
Only because lately, each morning
Waking means watching, sensing Being
Rise, quicken a ravishing spectacle
An orchestra loyal to her conductor,  
Tuning for a new day
Like earthrise from the moon  
Unbearably angelic, inexorable
A picture we startled
Recognize, like tablets uncovered in dark earth
After millennia speaking a memory collective
Together gasping we brush away the dirt
Each waking
Bright crescent rising from shadow,
Our fingers slide hungry, fast across the braille
Bidden from stone to sing, old testament of our verse
 
Only beause  
 I am accompanied bedside
With the glad silent host
Our multitude journeying with me
Some at fingertips, earthside, some shifting, distant  
Hovering, outermost stars near the chamber door  
How did we come here
My friends my loves grandfather father sweet children?
What strange hand
Amplifies with a rustle of His wingtip
The hum each of you sends, constant and true
Like whalesong echoing in a field of jade rocking sea,
Rippling through the expanding rings of our heavenly bodies
As we wheel in constellation with the majestic Dreamtime clock?
How do we come to stand, reverant, loving, knowing, constant,  
Present to one another, scripts still clutched in hand,
A  Host of witness waiting
Small brief bright mammals
Mortal messengers
Dreaming?