to feel the earth within

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Stand still. Listen.
The forest knows where you are.
Let it find you.

…..Native American

like the tender moss under bare feet…..like the surprising lilt in a summer breeze…..like the call of the heart toward a midnight moon…..like finally knowing that clouds pass through us….

Pilgrim

I bow to the lark
and its tiny
lifted silhouette
fluttering
before infinity.
I promise myself
to the mountain
and to the foundation
from which
my future comes.
I make my vow
to the stream
flowing beneath,
and to the water
falling
toward all thirst,
and
I pledge myself
to the sea
to which it goes
and to the mercy
of my disappearance,
and though I may be
left alone
or abandoned by
the unyielding present
or orphaned in some far
unspoken place,
I will speak
with a voice
of loyalty
and faith
to the far shore
where everything
turns to arrival,
if only in the sound
of falling waves
and I will listen
with sincere
and attentive eyes and ears
for a final invitation,
so that I can
be that note half-heard
in the flying lark song,
or that tint
on a far mountain
brushed with the subtle
grey of dawn,
even a river gone by
still looking
as if it hasn’t…

….David Whyte

come, look with me…..

I grow silent. Dear soul, you speak.
…..Rumi

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