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by WaylandCybersmith




Have you heard the song of the Sun

As it rises each morning at dawn?

Or the sigh of the clouds as they pass by?

Or the rainbow's laughter? Or the lightning's cry?


Have you heard the brook gossip with the trees?

Or heard the flower's serenade the bees?

Have you heard the complaints of old man oak?

Or heard the hawthorn's latest joke?


There is harmony and joy within each breath,

Laughter in life and peace in death.

Everything is what it's meant to be

Content with that, 'cept you and me.


To be ourselves, to find our place

That is contentment. That is grace.

To join the choir of earth an sky

To sing with the Sun in harmony


I wake to birdsong, and the dawn reflected by my wardrobe mirror.
My bedclothes, hugging me like a lover's embrace, urge me to stay.
I lay a while in thought and prayer, letting the joy and hope of life build.
Then, covers cast aside, I begin my day.

I wash and dress, then head downstairs. 
Cereal and coffee whilst immortals battle to keep their heads.
A quick survey of sequential graphical arts,
A box of sandwiches slung together,
Then, I am on my way.

Black road beneath, blue sky above, and the green of trees and fields each side. 
Behind me, the sun pours out it's brilliance and warmth.
More joy, more prayer, as each mile brings the memory of another blessing, or thoughts of a friend's need.

Too soon, I am at work, yet that too is joy, but I will tell that another time.

Our Own Song

We are our own song. 
A symphony, melody, or staccato.
When we meet, our songs may harmonize
Or cacophonize.
When you meet me, 
Choose harmony.




As I wander through this land and see the faces of those I meet. Inquiring

Of their lives and loves and to hear their dreams. Inspiring

Me to seek again the high hills and low valleys. Exploring

The length and breadth and height and all the world adoring.



© WaylandCybersmith 2011


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