In Faith.
Isn’t it about
the rippling, that
reaches out
From that one
pebble, leaf — or a
casting of sand?
Patterned
in a rhythm, the
watch full, Seer.
Sprinkling like
a constellation
of circled echos
That is the time
of your searching:
listening and
Looking for
those places of
resonance, that
Sound of calling
that only some can
hear: and know.
You stand
there, culling
the little fires
The voices, the
rings of the human
chains: those connected
Communing
communities
communicate —
And they cultivate,
cult — like rumor.
You stand there
Reaching and
listening for the
telling of that
Which is true.
But forgotten —
or unheard
By the other-wise
occupied, taken
up with too much
Of the other
things, to see
what is happening
Now. You stand
there: call out
those, the visions.
Some listen; some
not, but you go
on, sentient —
Guided by what
is out there, how
it is told
These stories
of knowing, the
great turns in
The River, that
is the flow
of Humankind.
Well wishing / TSG / 5.55am
Decatur Island / SanJuan County
—
Tim Girvin