The Song of Us

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And the song of the wind

That happy but serious whistle

That permeates all borders,

Mingling with the chant

Of the rumbling mountains,

The tinkling whisper

Of the buttercup

Coming into first bloom,

The low and steady hum

Of moss carpeting the ground

In the forests of the world.

There is not one song

That sings louder,

Or tries to override

Or outlive the other.

They are our blood,

The veins that carry it,

An extraordinary number of parts

Working in the name of

Our continuance.

Do we hear any of them at all?

But then, a moment so crushing

That we fall to our knees,

Come to what is maybe

The first silence

In the legend of our lives.

A note appears, a harmony,

Difficult to locate at first,

But it’s not long before

The songs of all the elements

Reach our ears,

And it can only be so,

In the precise way

Our hearts need them to,

So that we are all hearing

Different music, the song of us,

Made of the exact same sounds.

And this is how we are all one.

And this is how we are all love.

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Flowers Not Bombs

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What if we took a moment
to feel sadness for the world
without defiance or surrender
or anger or this or that or
any kind of opposition,
 
But knowing and feeling that
we want dew to blanket
the ground, not blood,
and flowers to sprinkle
the world, not bombs. – TS

Song of Body and World

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There are
parts of us
so soft,
so sincere,
so true,
an ache
that comes
and goes
in the night,
an ocean
a lifetime
a legend
for the ages
in the flutter
of a single
heartbeat,
the secrets
carried
on the wings
of our cells
as they
work to
generate
the matter
of our
humble
and glorious
existence.
Listen for
the whisper
carried
in the blood,
lingering
on the skin,
preparing
itself
to come
through us
in song.
This is
the song
of our
one world
and our
one place
in it. – TS