Of The New, The Old, And All That's In Between Poem by Mathew Lewis

Outside something moves,
A ripple of energy spreads out.
Something begins...
...Or rather...
...What began long ago
Returns from where it came.
Most of this is missed;
The weary masses are resting their heads.
But certain travellers,
Passengers of night time’s trance,
Shudder ever so slightly
As that oh-so-subtle shimmer
Makes its seductive pass.
Then, as what seams cruel and coldly,
To the observers of this thing,
That ripple disappears,
And all is silent once again.
And in the morning minds will wake,
Into sunlight, out of dreams,
And go about their days,
Ignorant of this thing.
But in silent lift rides
To the twenty-second floor,
And in generic classrooms
Where biology is taught.
In mouthfuls of food at lunchtime,
Within a boardroom’s pregnant pause,
Woven into what is everything
Waits this ripple behind a door.
And so what once a mere vibration
In the passing of the night,
Transforms into a shockwave
That will no longer be denied.
And as for those who might have felt it
When it first found space and time,
It comes as no surprise
That that ripple didn’t die.
And so, as you will find with most things,
It finally came to pass
That that little shock-shimmer-energy
Left a certain lasting mark.
And still, as you may also find
Very few absorbed this sign,
For such things are never clear
To the closed and blind mind.
But that ripple still remains,
On the very edge of sleep,
It is waiting for the next chance
It might get to be complete.
For the meantime it’s remembered
By the first who felt it move.
For them the night they felt that shiver
Is a night they’ll never lose.