A stream meanders down the rocky hillside, trickling shadows under a blanket of ice unable to prevent its march.<\/p>\n
An small hawk hovers headlong into the wind, only a man’s height from the ground, which he scours with inscrutable vision.<\/p>\n
The clouds billow southward from the rushing north winds, & collapse into a bowl like shape with the sun peaking over its golden lining.<\/p>\n
The light of the sun is warm upon my face & upon my heart is a lie that is dying to be broken.<\/p>\n
With forked tongue this lie hypnotizes me with the words “I never get what I need.” I honor its presence & I laugh.<\/p>\n
Everything, absolutely everything around me is teeming with life, with love, with joy if I just open my eyes to really see.<\/p>\n
An unmet need can lay still like the blanket of ice covering the life-giving waters pouring down from rocky mountains pristine.<\/p>\n
Unfulfilled is the man blinded by self-absorption. I trickle. I hover. I blow the clouds southward to be gathered by golden sunlight.<\/p>\n
A stream meanders down the rocky hillside, trickling shadows under a blanket of ice unable to prevent its march. An small hawk hovers headlong into the wind, only a man’s height from the ground, which he scours with inscrutable vision. The clouds billow southward from the rushing north winds, & collapse into a bowl like … Continue reading Being in the Stream<\/span>