Once I went to church, attended mass on my own,
Following the ceremony, as I have always known.
As soon as we reached reciting the Lord's Prayer,
We all got close, our hands we automatically share.
An old man in white, held my hand and squeezed it tight,
Greeted me Happy Birthday, to my shock, my instant fright!
Letting go of my hand, as I fell on my knees,
Questions I had, I dare not ask, instead I freeze.
The split second I found courage, to his direction I looked up,
The strange man disappeared; my heart almost stopped!
Wondering who he was, and how he knew my special day,
Wish he could have stayed; I wonder what he had to say.
Baffled and confused, I was compelled to do my research,
Why do I feel God's spirit when I rarely go to church?
Profound, mystic experiences I sometimes encounter,
Such privilege and honor, to observe such divine power.
The old man with a handshake was the first of the mysteries,
Followed by other magical encounters and intriguing inquiries.
Humbled and grounded, blessed to be conscious and aware,
Of divine guidance and presence beyond anything I can compare.
Decades had passed by, with clarity, I still remember,
Outpour of emotions, that early morning in September.
Told myself in the beginning, it could just be a fluke,
The goosebumps and nervousness that came with the spook.
That mystical encounter had a purpose, I feel,
No matter how magical, it felt incredibly real.
Never got the answers to all the questions in my mind,
Instead awakening my spirituality, no longer am I blind.
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