I stand on the precipice -
Feverish yet clear,
Shaking, consumed, saturated -
Overlooking the valley of the year ahead
Stretched out below.
I must somehow chart a course
Using only these distant glances from aloft
Which shall be revised again and again
As I forge my path.
But in this moment,
On this mountain,
All is still.
There are no words.
Only a pure tone
Ringing forth from my heart.
It is the quiet breath before.
Before questions.
Before answers.
Only this breath suffused with light.
Only truly being.
This state of awe.
This heaven.

I stand with the Shepherds of Wonder.
The leaders of spirits, hearts, and minds
To places within and without.
Those who can wrangle the wandering cries
into joyous song.
Those who can speak their minds
defending justice in word and deed.
Those wily leaders of sultry passion
who dance the pleasures of flesh.
Those whole-hearted carousers
who invite raucous laughter to exhaustion.
Those who know that truth,
however fragmented,
speaks through passion.
That reality,
however subjective,
is anchored to our place in all this.
Those who know that fear is the arrow
pointing us where we must go.
I stand among them,
Gathering the Pause,
Eyeing and toeing the cliff's edge.

Then suddenly
The swell
The stirring excitement
The revving
The sudden skip in heartbeat
in anticipation of
All future Loves, Losses, Silences, and Laughter.
The sudden idyllic nostalgia for all future cycles
Yet to pass into life
And out of time so quickly -
Future stories yet to be told
And soon to pass from all memory.
The suspense of the unknowable
In a race against mortality
Draws me nearer the edge.

I draw a breath on the outcrop.
Once again,
Like the Shepherds of Wonder before me
I find the spark to journey on
In the calm
Before the leap.

Like the serenity of still water, or the space between a heart's beat, now is where she is. Now I when love grows because now is all we have

crickets
following the first
a multitude

souls are already intertwined
since that time,
in stillness

I awoke
with mountains in their heights
that spoke
of memories that wove
through knees
thighs
and ***** bone --
to the inky waters of the lake below.

In that cabin
where the sable pines enclose
and all about
from coral-white
to grayish
turquoise-blue
snow.

That scene:
on the edge
where the stillness
Knows.

I like
to lie
In a park
At dark
In spring.
When the
Wind dies,
And everything
Is just so.
Just clear
as glass
and earthed
On grass
Below
I gaze
at stars
At last
While
crickets
Sing.

There in the stillness, the whisper of angel's wings
There in the stillness a place for beggars and kings
There in the stillness a fluttering of the soul
There in the stillness someone broken is being made whole

There in the stillness and silence of this room
Like standing there in Easter's empty tomb
There in the stillness and silence of this place
I open my eyes and find myself standing face to face

There in the silence I think I feel you say
There in the silence that all will be okay
There in the silence I hear my heartbeat still
There in the silence you hold me and you always will

There in the quiet a word of blessing and peace
There in the quiet there is freedom and release
There in the quiet I sing and praise and dance
There in the quiet a part of the sacred romance

There in the rest a river of life overflows
There in the rest a fruitful garden grows
There in the rest I am anchored and secure
There in the rest is a joy so real and pure

There in my life a battle day and night
There in my life a war between darkness and light
There in my life the Lord is always by my side
There in my life my God be glorified

Praise and glory to God on high
Prayer and song fill the sky
Lift your heart and raise your eyes
Please dry our tears and hear our cries

Amen