Watering the garden in the fresh calm of morning I hear voices. But there are always voices. Whenever there is stillness there are voices. There is the voice of Creator speaking through the grasses, of ancestors in the slight breeze through the leaves, of family and other loved ones who have journeyed on beyond this reality in sunlight eking over the lip of the world, the wail and chant of singers praising Earth and the spirit of her dominion against the sound of drums on distant hills. Everywhere evidence of The Great Mystery and nature’s relentless song and dance everywhere around me. Timeless, eternal voices wherever stillness reigns. This Earth, this planet, this home is never silent if you wish it strong enough…
Posted on: Wed, 16 Jul 2014 12:43:28 +0000
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