who beckons?

Who is it that beckons to me from the depth of my being? When can I finally hear your voice? I am tired and weary from this journey, this long and agonizing search. I seek to understand and know you, to be you. All I hear is the roar of the currents, the crashing waterfall eating away at the rocks. When will this isolation end?

I hear the birds and the rain pattering on the leaves. I see the sun shine across the meadow, and the violent streaks of gold at dusk. I am so small, so small. Where does safety lie, your nourishment and grace?

Who is it that brings me this grand symphony of chaos, the tides turning endlessly over another. What is my place in this? I have traveled road after road, always beginning where I started.

I always begin where I start. Is there a destination different from the path taken? The toil of travel is heavy. I must rest.

Spring comes and the lilies blossom. Their light fragrance extinguishes the dissonance of me who I think myself to be. What is to follow?

The sand at my feet bears the remembrance of yesterday. I make way to the ocean and cleanse myself in the depths. The vast may always be vaster. The shallow may be more shallow. I do not know which is true. I do not know.

In the forest, the quietness emerges from the depths. The silence radiates through, expressing itself in all things. I hear the roar of the currents, the crashing waterfall. What is left behind I need not and know not. I know I am.

-S.L