It sometimes rains
from within,
souls soaked
from the inside out,
cleansed,
as if bathed in sacred oils,
surrounded by far eastern incense.

A single candle burns
in an ancient temple.
Washed in the calm light
of clarity,
motionless idols glow.

Stone wolves, hair raised,
lips drawn back, revealing
glistening mother of pearl teeth,
Tibetian demons glaring,
eyes clinched,
tongues lashing out.

A whole menagerie
of sullen,dust covered
dark angels,
unworhipped
for what seems like centuries.

Hours, days, months,years,
even decades lost
to their darkness.

Now lit by the slow,
burning fire of illumination.
The smell of survival
permeates unbounded,
the world opens up.

Step into the light,
seeing for the first time,
blindly blinking.