Love Letter To My Soul
I love you, Eric
You are wholly innocent yet
Your face is creased with care
Mountaintop molded
Wild wind winds your hair into
Dreadlocked braids of beauty
That trail behind you stars.
Your staff is crooked in the crook of your arm
As you stand by a creek that leads
Away from belief
Into knowing
Snow blowing
Wisdom into all the crevices
Of the rocky substrate that lives under the fertile soil
That rests easily on top of your vast experience
Bowing, genuflecting in your Northernmost years
You eye the sky
Blue, like you
Vast, larger than all you can see
It is what you wish for more than anything else
To be like Him.
To embrace the gently swirling planet
In a starry hug
And likewise all humanity
Their warring, slumbering, stumbling, beloved souls
Crying for all they could have
You would grant their every wish, wouldn't you?
I know you would.
It's what you are made of...
May the Creator of All That Is
Grant you your best hopes,
For Them and for You;
Those hopes that reach through your soil
Through your sacred stone
Into the beating red core
Of the holy, smiling intentions
Of your
Great
Compassionate
Heart.
--Eric Marley, for Aspen Tristan Marley
Two days before Hambleche, 2015
No comments:
Post a Comment