Another Sunday Rolls Around...

This morning's prompt involved poet David Whyte and writing whatever came to mind after reading his work. There's no accounting for what comes into my mind sometimes.

Coming Home with David Whyte

When my mind is weary from

too much thought,

I go out of doors

and fall in love.

Beyond my doorstep

the green grass woos me,

beckons bare feet to

touch the earth

feel the earth,

and if I should lie down

in a meadow

the grasses whisper the same

love songs that the bees

hum and the sparrows chirp,

a song of longing and satisfaction

of heartbreaking beauty,

of the comings and goings of all

living things, of the dance we all

dance, of the joining of hands

and minds and cells,

and the conversation between beats,

the sharing of secrets that, once known,

 open eyes long closed.

and

Not What I Thought

There is your path,

and there is my path,

and everywhere everyone

is walking a path unknown to me,

unknown to you,

paths of light, paths of darkness,

stony, steep paths,

paths that run downhill.

We are not all on the same path.

We are not all the same,

but I can shout out when something

I’ve discovered on my path is

too good not to be shared,

and you can call out from yours

over something too awful to face alone.

And so its seems we walk the same path

because we can hear each other calling.

We walk through the same bands of fog

or sunshine. Nonetheless you are on

your path and I am on mine

and everyone else is making a

solitary trek, and only our voices

are blending and joining,

making it seem like we are all one.