Wake To It

Quicksilver lives, like glistening waves,

Unrelentingly forming, cresting, diminishing, receding,

Like notes on an ever-moving scale,

On ever-turning pages, speeding faster than light,

Billowing above the beckoning forest canopy,

To the lacrimal sounds of searching loons.

“Wait for me.”, wails the wind.

“Wait for me and see the wonders in store.

See love, be love, no more or less than that,

For that is the pinnacle, the apex, the peak,

Waiting to be put to pen”.  Become one with the wild things.

Be the birther of compassion in veins of stardust,

Cradled in the branches of time immemorial.

Stare into the golden, prescient eyes of wolves,

To behold the truth of yourself, your existence.

Wake to it, see it, write it.  Create.

Live in the now of every beautiful moment of it,

It is your birthright.  Inherit it.

And know deeply, that all of its promise,

Is alive, within you.