A Tingle To Reality Poem by Derick Stinson

To sit and wonder how it all came to exist, how does this body form,
Open your hands, really feel the substance and flow of blood,
The slight tingle of reality starts at your fingertips, pulsing up the arm,
In line with your heartbeat, warmth emanates with a flood,
A participant of mortal existance, a being of invention and light,
Who are you, the question is neverending, distracting and true,
Elevations of alertness both fragile and inconsistently take flight,
Form ideas from your mind, and material construction accrues,
Out of your soul you awaken with the reality of what has been set in motion,
You are the orchestrator of your own formation of reality,
Never too late for a change of mind, body and devotion,
Obstacles may arise and attempt to claim false deity,
Stay true to yourself, remembering the control of your emotion,
Fixate on the tingle, the inner power of your warmth,
Consistently flowing from fingertips to the heart of your being,
Eminating a self awareness, leading to your inner hearth,
Where the fire burns slowly welcoming you home from what you've been fleeing.