Something In Me Does Not Rest Poem by RIC BASTASA

Perhaps it is my soul
It is restless It is up to something else
Something more important than what I am doing now
It is wriggling. It is conscious of something.
To come.
It is up for something greater than everyday.
I do not know.
I really do not know. It is not speaking to me.

It is like an egg. It is the shell and transparent
Something alive is wriggling wanting to be born.
I am wanting to be reborn. I am not speaking to myself.
It is delicate. It is perhaps something holy.