THE WAKING HOURS
To know your true path
you must listen
all the way through
to the other side of everything
that is trying to speak to you
you must listen
as you would the call
of a single bird
in a forest of machinery
as you would to a river
when it captures you
and no one else is there
to hear it
as you would to the rhythm
of your lover's quiet breathing
as they lie sleeping next to you
in the dark
When you find it
if you find it
if you can pluck it
out of the madness
of your ordinary days
Fall, then, to your knees
Weep
and give it everything
everything you've carried
everything you've pretended
everyone you've loved
or been loved by
lay it all down
in gentle surrender
to the Beckoning Call
Then, tomorrow, do it again
and the next day, again
and the next
believing, believing
all the way to the horizon
until you become
that Song
that River
that Breath of Life
you already were all along
You'll see then
in those waking hours
what all true mystics know
This is how we heal the world
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