Wisdom Seekers

The wood has drawn me in,
in from the sunshine
in from the August breeze
to sit on the damp earth
to shelter, quieten, to be still
to exist in almost nothingness
to hide from all that fills my thoughts.

From awakening in the East
like the rising sun they came.
Those who inspire and dream dreams
and those who bring passion
Sages and wisdom seekers:
born of the Earth.

As I stand in the wood
with sunlight dappled
through the high canopy
and the harmony of the wind song
all around me,
I have a deep sense of awareness
peace, that welcomes me
and seems to be saying that
everything will be alright.
When the winter comes
and darkness prevails
Spring will be my hope.

There will always be a Spring.

A sycamore sapling
on the woodland carpet in front of me
is bathed in sunlight
perhaps for the first time this day
just for five minutes.

The Masters of wisdom
have given their light
to shine to people
who accept or reject
their grace and understanding.
Long do I wish I could
shed my burdens
and speak to inspire.

There are two parts of me:
the Hare that runs and chases,
the Hare that sits and listens.