My stillness is as the stars

Whirling in ecstatic motion and

Yet utterly motionless

In sight of the naked eye

My movement is as the ocean,

In, and out, and in

And out,

Heaving from bottomless deeps

To sandy shores and back

Again, from continent to continent

And world’s end to

World’s end

My sight is as the moon

Waxing and waning

Black and gloriously bright

And ever circling, ever seeing

I hear as the soft earth underfoot

Rattling with millions of

Secrets buried, spoken and


Buds un-sprouted and roots

Digging deep

And such is my silence- the song of leaves

Dripping with dew

And trees in ancient communion

The song of the wind and

The early morning sky

And the hollows between mountains

And the edges of rivers and lakes

Where hidden fruit grows

Ripe and sweet and unbidden

With a gentle tinkling quiet heard only by those

Who truly listen

And when I speak?

My whispers are the caress of steel

On bare neck

And my words the high call of the bird of


My murmur is of the bubbling stream

And the soft growl of the predator that drinks its fill

And raises it’s call to the full moon from the

Mountain tops

I speak the language of the fire churning at the core

Of the world

And when it finds its way to the surface,

Diamonds lie strewn in its wake

Like paltry rocks.

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