I took my own journey into consciousness out in the desert on one of the final days, and lay down in the sand and wrote this poem on silence in 3 rhythms.

Listening is not just knowing or even sensing or seeing or being. Listening is all those things and more. It is the wordless mystery of all that is. And all that I can say with certainty is that I am devoted with all my being to this mystery.

Listen

(In 3 rhythmS)

Listen says the silent voice.
Listen to what?
To the silence.
How can you speak through the silence? And how can you speak through the noise?
And how can you speak through the fear that chokes our throats?

—-

Listen to the butterflies wings
and to the hummingbird
listen to the wind
and the trees that make it heard

Listen to the silent time
of a cactus standing 20 feet tall
and listen to the nothing
to the space between it all

Listen to the silent rocks who speak their stories
just with shapes
listen to the cloudless sky
a silent blue with no mistakes

Listen to the things you smell
A rose is like a Serenade
listen to the nighttime bird
sending song in harsh midday

—

We each come with a wound
oh just one? No a few
they are just a road sign
to be heeded to be listened to
an initiation
a beginning
a magic invitation
a primal undulation
a causal force seeking
only one effect
the sacred one