Monday, February 21, 2011
A Crow's Prayer.
Lift your head to the treetops and open your beak.
Settle your feathers, then breathe out and speak.
The sound has no target, no distance to travel,
Your voice is a ball of wool, let it unravel.
Softly, at first, starting deep down inside,
rising like mist, making its way outside.
Sighing like willows in a warm summer breeze,
making it's way where it's going, with ease.
Nothing in life needs much force to succeed.
Nothing succeeding in life, has much need.
Let your thoughts be, what they are meant to be,
Let your thoughts see, that you have set them free.
Some things are harder, than others, it's thought.
Some thoughts, are harder than others, if fought.
Some words are harder, and some words are soft,
Let them all go, set them all free, aloft.
To dance and to curtsey, to skip and to float,
like the laughter of children, in a sandcastle moat.
Each carrying a part of you, each word is alive,
so choose each one carefully, for words never die.
Your words are all precious, though none has a price.
As they fly to the heavens, and are gone, in a trice.
But the echoes from each will endure for all time,
Ringing out through eternity, in harmony, rhymed.