From the shadows of a parched life,
My soul a desert of broken vessels,
Spilled out on the thirsty ground,
Cracked, broken and leaking,
I sought to drink water that could revive.
I went to the deepest well of understanding,
To find my source;
I visited a place that is seldom seen,
I called it “Still”.
“Still” was there while the earth thundered around,
“Still” had its own sounds,
That drifted in with Creation’s voice,
A whisper in the wind,
The call of the morning birds,
A call to hope born from “Still”.
“Still” was waiting to touch my lips,
To give my life a voice,
“Still” wasn’t lost in humanity’s din,
It is a gift from that deepest well,
That is waiting to bring life,
“Still”, “Quiet”, “Listen”,
Three close friends for my journey.
