My active voice is the elixir of fire my addiction would have me snuff in order to keep us hidden from each other, me hidden from you, you hidden from me and no one noticing you or I pouring the drinks. Minus my active voice I slip easily into unconsciousness, my effectiveness doused. My active voice is the light in my room the candle in my window, the glow within me, which illuminates my days as well as my nights. Moving ever forward the gyroscopic precision of this voice never fails me if I keep my “listening ears” turned on and tuned in. My active voice is and will always be the live wire connection of my Higher Power uniting with me through people, places and things. My effective conscience is everything that results from this bond. I run at an unfathomable rate of efficiency when my active voice is on, my feet fail to touch the ground as I fly to right action, the nature of my effective conscience is just that, nature, as natural as if I were not carrying a fatal malady, but instead possessed the secret to serenity, which in fact I do: sobriety.
Try not to confuse available with empty
The bedpan of spirituality
Was shoved under my ass
Early in sobriety
It kept me from increasing the mess
With which I surround myself.
The cold smack of enamel got my attention.
The old timers showed me there is a place for my shit
It was not any of the places
I had been using.
My side, your side, all sides were strewn with my waste
Fragments, tatters and fearful reminders
Were all there for me to clean up.
Amends as the shovel
And willingness as its handle
Is what I use to clear my past.
Sweat is refreshing when progress is being made
I’ve made inroads, paths of travel help me more easily
From the past to the present without regret.