And in the unknowing
I will be found and find myself.
In the unknowing is
the Love, the Silence,
the acceptance of just
Being in the yearning
and that – that is
Enough.
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Sometimes, when a bird cries out, Or the wind sweeps through a tree, Or a dog howls in a far off farm, I hold still and listen a long time.
My soul turns and goes back to the place Where, a thousand forgotten years ago, The bird and the blowing wind Were like me, were my brothers and sisters.