Everything I love resides within this little bit of time,
so, I listen very close—in case I hear life’s mystic rhyme.
A million secrets call to me from hiding places, large and small;
they’re so warm and near to me that I open softly to their call.
I open to the glassy lake, the red and yellow leaves of fall;
I open to the autumn wind, the robin’s song, the crow’s harsh caw.
I watch the bundled mom and child as they climb into their car;
I study streaming traffic on the streets, bearing people near and far.
I curiously observe my town, its stores, its streets, its factories too.
I notice kindness, smiles, and quiet love in folks that pass,
folks much like you.
Houses that appear mundane hold treasures that my heart enthrall—
chairs and tables, mixed up folks, and silly kids
—I love them all.
pain and loss are always near and ignorance and fear abound,
but, when I open to this world, life’s inner song can still be found.
So, whether counting midnight stars—or listening to one person’s tale,
I seek the singing bowl of life,
the overflowing holy grail.
There’s far too much to find it all,
and my life span’s pretty thin,
so, perking up my ears and eyes
I just take it in.
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