Beneath the intricate network of noise
there's a still more persistent tapestry
woven of whispers, murmurs and chants
It's the heaving breath of the very earth
carrying along the prayer of all things:
trees, ants, stones, creeks and mountains alike
All giving silent thanks and remembrance
each moment, as a tug on a rosary bead,
while we hurry past, heedless of the mysteries
And yet, each secret wants to be told
every shy creature to approach and trust us
if only we patiently listen, with all our senses.
Below, is a satisfyingly close reading of my poem (line by line) that invites meditation:
https://tinyletter.com/still-life/letters/still-life-breathing