Prayer

An Abbey should be a place of reverence,
defined by self and all,
and I find much of spirit here
though not within a hall.

I am drawn more to the wooded slope,
across the giggling stream
and softly misted meadow.

papa
...............................................

The Forest of my Prayer

It is easier by far to discern the presence of the grove from a distance. The tips of spruce finger above blued mist a bit higher there than else. Below there hovers shadows in a tapestry of light that softens edge and does obscure the true form within the glen. 'Tis a mystery to me how a path decided sure can swerve aside, beckoned by waving fern of special frond or mossy hunt for northern clue. Perhaps it is enough to be lost here for a bit, sheltered some from noise and din - surely most which does come from deep inside my head.
I think I must call out in verse, or sing a simple song, or whistle joined with hidden bird or breathing of the grass. But my dreams are heard, of that I'm sure, but I know not who or how. Perhaps it is the rusty bark of the cedar rough I love to hug, or the laughing ripple of stony brook or the light from a patch of snow. Perhaps it is the shallow cave I have never cared to search, or the charred remains of a praying form from stump to saint is merged. Perhaps it is the fungus that lives beneath the needled floor with acres of chaos blending brown caps of death amidst the nutted piles.
This forest is within me as sure as other places in which my spirit dwells. The sure messy tent, unfinished project bag and slightly practiced tune on flute and lute and gusli lyre. But see there too the ordered files of chant and verse and prose, and willfully constructed boxes of trivia and profound that make of me a paradox in which I'm neither lost or found. By structured things I am by the world known that knows me not at all. For it is in the shaded glade 'neath scented pine that I pray unto my Lord his presence to unfold, and reach out to touch the Goddess who is everywhere.. I love that search and the search is love, and the task an eternal play. I'd invite you here to search with me and call out in silent song, but the paths are but wide enough for one, though I feel your presence near. But alone is never lonely in the forest of my prayers. I lay down my head on a flowered bush where cloud kissed sunlight flickers in my hair. It is enough my Special One to know that you are truly there.