Must Be Heard

How many have stood in this place
I stand now, or walked down
the length of these halls?
Do they feel me now,
as I seem to feel them...?
As Iíll be felt by someone else tomorrow -
vestiges of one another, past and future
meeting at a seeming
solitary point in time and space.

Invisible as air, we move together -
all that ever dared to just be here -
while echoes whisper silently
of every day and age in words
that have no clarity of definition,
in stages of an ever growing evolution.

Startling, the revelation of us all,
so much more than touching close,
as we fall into each other unaware;
and all we used to think we were
becomes a blur of passing images,
never quite suspended or exceeded
yet alwasy really there
imparting truth.

The spirit of the earth will always be
soul speaking, at first no more than just
a silent whispering of solitary words,
growing then in increments
into the howling of the fiercest storm,
until we warm into its understanding,
knowing only this:
It must be heard.

Listening, we see it all in utter clarity.
The tree that used to be itself complete,
where now a car is parked.
Wildflowers singing in a breeze.
just where we sleep and take our ease.
The burbling spring that used to stream
right through these halls of stone
still sings its living symphony.

Yet how many of them ever truly knew . . .?
the glory of the sun arising golden everywhere,
or heard its shadows speaking in the night,
where starlight burns another path
that leads beyond imagining
into the splendor of foreverís dawn of life.

The mists there rising oíer the pond -
do they know that they are part
and parcel of a greater body...?
Mere particle of dream within a dream,
that grows beyond all scope and distance,
hint of all that was and seed
of all that might now come to be.

Generations wandering like bards,
singing themselves back to life again;
bringing ancient wisdom to the fore
where more and more, we come to see
the story of all future glory,
happening again and still, right now.

I reach and there you are,
startled, just as I, into a pause;
and we look into each other,
seeing through and through,
merging into yet another
hint of unity.
Knowing only this:
we love, and that the wisdom
of our hearts insists
it must be heard . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/17/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...