Sanat

I was folding laundry when the floor began to hum
A frequency below the noise of everything I'd done
The coffee cooled, the clock stood still, the morning held its tongue
And something in my sternum knew what I was waking from

I've been faithful to the calendar, the lists, the daily grind
A good machine inside a life I carefully designed
But there's a tremor in the architecture of my days
A hairline crack where something golden leaks through the malaise

Can you feel it underneath your feet?
The ground is not as solid as we think

There's a tremor running through me
And I can't go back to sleep
Something ancient, something hungry
Something mine I need to keep
There's a tremor and it's growing
Like a tide I didn't call
I am shaking, I am waking
And I want to feel it all

My daughter asked me why I stopped mid-sentence at the door
I told her nothing, held her close, but felt it even more
The trees outside were louder, and the sky was paper-thin
As if the whole production leaned and whispered: look within

Can you feel it underneath your skin?
The self is not as certain as we think

There's a tremor running through me
And I can't go back to sleep
Something ancient, something hungry
Something mine I need to keep
There's a tremor and it's growing
Like a tide I didn't call
I am shaking, I am waking
And I want to feel it all

I don't have a name for it
No doctrine, no design
Just a hum inside my body
Older than this life of mine
Older than this life of mine...

The tremor says: begin