Floating...

Adrift on the vapor of heaven...
Only hearing the heartbeat of Mother Earth
Through the endless twilight of the dream...
In Unity - Spirit, the forest, and I...
The loon echoes the sound of his flute
Across the quicksilver lake's surface...
As I bring into being tiny whirlpools
With a twist of my paddle,
They blend with the rising mist,
And I cannot see where the water ends
And the mist begins - only the tiny
Ripple-sound, and the pat of droplets
On the water as I lift and reach out again
Reaching for a new purchase with which
To gently glide forward, striving no more
Than the water itself, without looking back...
Only forward, toward a rising moon
Into absolute stillness...

H M 6/25/02 ©