#conduit
I’m heading to a special wood.
A magic place to be.
Where whispers can be heard,
from swaying branch of every tree.
There’s Oak and Willow,
Ash and Cherry too.
Each has a tale to tell
and they’re whispering it to you.
I’m going to a special tree.
It’s been here just one thousand days.
At its trunk I sit to listen
to the branches in the breeze.
I pass to it my confidences
and tell it tales anew.
In the hope you hear me
through prayers I send to you.
They don’t just talk, you know.
They take the time to listen too.
If you’ve got a tale to tell,
the tree will pass it on for you.
So, find yourself a special tree
and tell to it your tale.
With a rustle in its leaves,
your story, upon the breeze, will sail.
Each tree, like a guardian,
stands tall and stout.
Giving succour to the ground
and all the flora ‘round about.
Their branches reaching to the sky.
Their roots the soil beneath.
A bridge ‘tween heaven and earth.
Giving faith to my belief.
I gaze upon this special tree.
Think back a thousand days.
‘Tis here you’re laid to rest.
The place I come to pray.
This tree brings hope, that much is true,
and like a conduit,
through it, ‘tis my way,
to commune with you.
Mar 1, 2020
Mar 1, 2020 at 1:52 PM UTC
These words...
They traverse the fine line between earth and sky.
They dwell not, surface-deep in the dirt.
They be haloed not, as the chorus of heaven.
They're just murmurs that swim intangible.
Like reticulated wisps of smoke.
Incapable of materialising...
Or take definite forms on their own.
They only await to be carefully selected,
rearranged and harnessed into a jar...
Before being sealed infinite with a title.
Be quiet and still...
For you will hear them.
Milling and floating in the silence
that exists between your heartbeats.
Listen close...
For they are fragments of you
and the universe.
They're thoughts and feelings that come awake
as you slumber.
*Awaiting to be selected...
Awaiting to be rearranged...
Awaiting to be harnessed...*
By you,
the conduit with a pen.
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 10:35 AM UTC