MORNING SONG
I am a child, murmurs the Heart that lives within me. I am a child and hold the Worlds in my wings. I am the love that opens doors to All That Is. I have the thoughts you seek to think. The words I speak cannot be silenced and are echoed through the halls of your mind, taking you everywhere within the Nowhere. I carry your song in my pockets while you take time from singing to play at being broken.
You merely play at being broken. Broken wings live only in the land of dreaming. You are a dreamer now, pretending that you have broken wings. But yours are wings that hold stitches made from knowing. Yours are wings that never need repair. The tears you weep become the stitches that hold together the wings that never break.
There is a tree that lives in the very center of the room in which I sit and write and tell myself my story. Silent, tall, and elegant, it rustles its leaves with each thought I make. My thoughts are not always happy ones and the tree weeps in sorrow at the darkness I often express. Neither of us feels that I possess awareness large enough to understand why I go down these dark corridors. I am the order of the universe and so are you, the apple on the tree whispers. We are children of a universe that sings to itself and heals what cannot be broken.
Often, in my room, I sit at the window and look upon the wonders that live just beyond the walls I have built around my life. How lovely is the garden that blooms beyond these walls. How hard it is for me to go there, abandoning the sounds of the human world that hold me. I never cease repeating the silliness I hear here, though it contradicts my better judgment. These silly things are not the words I truly wish to say, even as I play at being broken. I have waited a long time for understanding and courage. My only desire is to stay near this open window and keep the hope alive that morning will come.
I am a child, murmurs the Heart that plays within me. I am a child and hold the Worlds in my wings.
But am I listening?
* * *Words & Pictures © by Arlene Graston
All Rights Reserved
