I would not trade the soft whispers of my soul
for the bright music of fleeting praise.
Nor the shadows that give it shape
to melt in the radiance of endless sunlit days.
I would wish my spirit a shadow and a light.
A shadow to give me solace and the space
to feel the textures of the world unseen.
A light to guide my footsteps through the labyrinth
and find loveliness in what might have been.
A shadow to ground me to the earth’s dark center;
A light to lift my gaze to distant, promising skies.
I would rather my way had a seeking heart than that I accepted dull conjecture.
I crave the ache of reaching for the stars above,
for those who settle for dust have lost their deep hue.
I have known the thrum of a love that burns,
and its soft whisper rings more clear and true.
When the evening falls, the tired bird takes rest
and dreams of flying on the morning breeze.
As sunrise wakes it leaves the sheltered nest
to greet the largeness with a glad prayer.
The life of birds is quest and return.
A shadow and a light.
The river flows from mountain’s height away
and gains strength from every winding stream.
It cuts its course through darkness and through light
until it flows to the sheen of the ocean.
The life of rivers is a sharing and a gain.
A shadow and a light.
And thus the self departs its boundless source,
to wander through the landscapes of the Now,
through the summits of strife and the span
of peaceful valleys where gentle breezes blow.
To reach the final current, smooth and deep,
and lose itself once more where all beginnings sleep.