The Spark Is Here by Robert 0z

[Intro — spoken] They told me the trip was a carnival behind the eyes: drugs, crazy colors, fractals folding into butterflies, strange sounds crawling out of the walls, cool art, hallucinations, a beautiful light show in the skull. I believed them. I packed a flashlight for a place that never needed one. [Verse 1] The ceiling turned to water, the carpet learned to breathe, a red cup held a galaxy then settled on my knee. I laughed at my own hand like it had a secret plan, then watched the colors disappear when I got quiet where I am. A little boy draws a door on the side of his bedroom wall; he waits for it to open, but the room was there through it all. [Pre-Chorus] So I sat beside the window, let the passing pictures fade, counted every thought like footsteps then forgot what counting made. [Chorus] You missed the trip if you only saw the colors, missed the ocean staring at the wave. The deepest thing I saw was never something visible; it was what remained when vision changed. You missed the trip if you only chased the thunder, missed the quiet underneath the sound. The door was never somewhere else to enter— it was the space where nothing was missing now. [Verse 2] One thought left the room, the next one missed its train; in that small unclaimed second there was no lack, no name. Silence wasn’t empty, it was full without a shape, like a cup before the water, like a hand unclenched from fate. My edges got transparent, not gone, just less severe; my sorrow was still sorrow, but it had room to breathe in here. I found a quiet Spark, not a flare across the sky— a little steady ember that didn’t need to prove it shined. [Chorus] You missed the trip if you only saw the colors, missed the ocean staring at the wave. The deepest thing I saw was never something visible; it was what remained when vision changed. You missed the trip if you only chased the thunder, missed the quiet underneath the sound. The door was never somewhere else to enter— it was the space where nothing was missing now. [Bridge — spoken, building gently] Then you sat across from me. No sermon, no disguise. Just two tired human beings with the same weather in our eyes. A thread of light ran softly from your silence into mine; I thought it was a bridge between us, then I couldn’t find the line. Where did your breath stop? Where did my breathing start? The closer I got to knowing you, the less I could divide the heart. Not losing who we were— just dropping every label at the door. Not escaping from the world— remembering what we’re in it for. [Verse 3] Morning put the room back: the table, books, and floor. My thoughts returned in order, my name came through the door. The visions left like theater lights after everyone has gone; the strange and lovely colors dimmed, but something carried on. I washed a cup for someone, held the elevator still, heard a friend say, “I’m tired,” and stayed to hear them feel. The miracle got ordinary, which is how I knew it grew: peace became a patient answer, love became what hands can do. [Final Chorus] You missed the trip if you only saw the colors, missed the fire living quietly in you. The Spark was not the light that filled the ceiling— it was the light that recognized me in you. You missed the trip if you thought you had to vanish, missed the world returning, changed but near. The colors fade, the peace can still be carried; the heart remembers how to stay right here. [Outro — spoken, very soft] The room came back. The thoughts came back. My name came back. But one thing didn’t. The distance between us. [Whispered refrain] I am here. You are here. Nothing missing. The Spark is here. [End]