Ice shelfs divide,
green land turns to desert,
winds churn vast ocean.
The veil of the mundane
torn to fluttering rags
reveals the depravity of isolation.
From the abode of silence
the tuning fork of the almighty
gathers sound into one unerring pulse.
As the temple of artifice crumbles
the holiness of the unseen
breaks through dismal cloud
and the earth is covered
with the sound of birds.
Amen ~ ~ ~
The holiness of the unseen…the connected universe….which is caused by the Source of all life……which is a mystery of unfathomable proportion….
Good one Don! That unerring pulse dissolves the dismal artifice and glory resounds within and all around me. This is not just a poetic metaphor. It is happening now. I love the quickening energy in the movement. Thank you.
Don, put this one at the front of your next book. Thanks for sending it.
The cure for loneliness is solitude and descending below the turbulence as we ascend to touch the holy with humble, prayerful mindfulness. Beautiful Don!
This is my favorite of your pieces. In the midst of all the crap going on politicaly in the world, a ray of hope….
from the abode of silence … thank you!
Thanks for sharing – calm reflections in a sea of mind numbing chatter.
Thank God for the ever present, soulful sound of birds which transcend all depravity of isolation………….shush………listen.
Resonating with this my brother…………
~anomon
It is from the unseen that all is birthed, and the quality of listening is learned.