There are mysteries
that will never be revealed,
As they shouldn't.
The mountains, wise and old,
will hold their secrets, quietly,
As they should.
Majestic old trees,
made of sun and earth,
Will not divulge the workings
of time and nature.
Birds will not tell
of never-ending voyage
across boreal forest, mountains, deserts,
But they will sing of it.
Whales will not speak
about the sacred ocean,
whose depths they only know;
It's written in their eyes.
These secrets are not for distracted, insensitive humans.
They will not be bought or sold, ever!
They cannot be told,
But must be felt, experienced,
Through pure yearning, desire, and deep humility.
This precious knowing of the earth and our place on it is our gift at birth,
A forgotten gift we search for all our lives,
not knowing what we're looking for,
down busy city streets,
in stifling office buildings,
in failed relationships.
A gift that's ready to open when we're ready.
Look to the powerful beings who know!
Pay them deep respect, and you may be granted a glimpse.
A glimpse that makes this life worthwhile.
Peace
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