She Speaks In The Wind
This morning I hear her whispers
echo off the valley walls, as an unseen
mouth caresses notes from a wooden flute.
I lose track of needing to know who
is playing, how the notes are chosen
and fall into the remembered sound-
of her voice. An aching longing has left,
leaving instead a passionate peace-
inviting me to remain here longer,
to inscribe each word heard, each moment
felt, to a lasting memory, where flute,
whispers, wind and flute player all merge
As an Ecstatic Poet, my aim is to awaken in you, the part of you that knows the truth of your being, the beauty of your soul.