Blue Ridge Mountains
The misty blue mountains sing
their mystic blues songs
As I sit by the flowing creek,
wailing on my wooden flute,
playing what I see:
The dance of water over rocks,
the white rush of its fall.
The cat and I watch the sun
Coming up over the ridge line.
My heart, my mind, my spirit –
All f the same flow as the water,
the wind, and the whistle in the trees.
My soul feels so loose,
I may take off and join the clouds
above the blue mystical mountains.
The misty blue mountains sing
their mystic blues songs
As I sit by the flowing creek,
wailing on my wooden flute,
playing what I see:
The dance of water over rocks,
the white rush of its fall.
The cat and I watch the sun
Coming up over the ridge line.
My heart, my mind, my spirit –
All f the same flow as the water,
the wind, and the whistle in the trees.
My soul feels so loose,
I may take off and join the clouds
above the blue mystical mountains.
Mt. Rainier
I felt your hand take mine
and lead me down the worn forest trail
our fingers like the branches above,
intertwined, not knowing where one tree began
and another ended.
I ran my hands up the lengths
of their ancient trunks
and the dampness of this green world
seeped into my pores.
I heard the rhythm the world played
going thub thub on its heart drum:
living and dying, laughing and crying,
the pleasure and pain, the sunshine and rain
giving and receiving, knowing and believing
and upon this rhythm we danced
our dance of freedom.
I listened to the symphony of bird calls,
the love songs echoing among the leaves.
You whispered in my ear,
and I was helpless to do a thing
but surrender to the sweet vibration.
I followed the trails of a luminous Om
and fell into the silence of a blissful blue sky.
I saw the mist above the tree line
and my eyes lost the edge between
heaven and earth, earth and heaven.
I said “Let’s disappear into the fading fog.
We won’t know if we’re riding the wind,
or if the wind is riding us.”
The rain clouds were rolling in, heavy and dark,
yet the sun was rising in our hearts.
I smelled the musk of fallen bark
merging with the soil of old,
life returning and returning again
back into itself, nothing wasted, nothing lost.
The perfume of the earth brought me back
to the beauty of your eyes
and I knew there was nowhere to be but home.
I felt your hand take mine
and lead me down the worn forest trail
our fingers like the branches above,
intertwined, not knowing where one tree began
and another ended.
I ran my hands up the lengths
of their ancient trunks
and the dampness of this green world
seeped into my pores.
I heard the rhythm the world played
going thub thub on its heart drum:
living and dying, laughing and crying,
the pleasure and pain, the sunshine and rain
giving and receiving, knowing and believing
and upon this rhythm we danced
our dance of freedom.
I listened to the symphony of bird calls,
the love songs echoing among the leaves.
You whispered in my ear,
and I was helpless to do a thing
but surrender to the sweet vibration.
I followed the trails of a luminous Om
and fell into the silence of a blissful blue sky.
I saw the mist above the tree line
and my eyes lost the edge between
heaven and earth, earth and heaven.
I said “Let’s disappear into the fading fog.
We won’t know if we’re riding the wind,
or if the wind is riding us.”
The rain clouds were rolling in, heavy and dark,
yet the sun was rising in our hearts.
I smelled the musk of fallen bark
merging with the soil of old,
life returning and returning again
back into itself, nothing wasted, nothing lost.
The perfume of the earth brought me back
to the beauty of your eyes
and I knew there was nowhere to be but home.
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