Tuesday, November 23, 2004

Mountain Weekend

Angels, everywhere
should you see them-
look, how my face quivers,
how the flutter and swaying tree knows.
Beyond a field of translucent sky,
and diamond dotted wave,
beyond the dance of flame-lick;
all embossed where there are Angels.

When you see, inward pulse
quickens, and you may be carried away.

Be silent then-
No one believes like a disbeliever will.

2004

Our weekend was spent in the mountains of North Carolina where we camped in rustic cabins, ate food prepared over a campfire, and walked along the banks of the Laurel Creek near Hot Springs. Nothing compares to the solitude and peace found along Laurel Creek. I strolled the path beside the water in perpetual meditation with the realization my every thought and action is a sacred prayer.

The creek whispers in my ear of things I cannot explain.

1 Comments:

Blogger Buford said...

Isaiah I love this poem it touches very closly to my private understanding of the divine, of my holy ghost, my "relgion" if you will. the ability to walk, quitly, and listen to what your life has to say,accepting moments for what they are and holding the wisdom to reconize them.

isaiah,tom,TC,friend,brother,in-law,what ever name your wife calls you. thanks!

9:08 PM  

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