Wordless waiting

So, let us see what

Today brings, which 

Writing wants to flow through, 

What wonders carried on the

Gentle blowing breeze.

The sore silence here

With distant bird calls

Close kulbardi song

This is not it, not yet

And so I wait.

I wait and let ink

Flow for the thought

Thoughts to go where

They may go and they lead

To bright doors flung wide open.

It's a world rainbow

Sparkled, figured all upon

The healing for these

Words they come to us

And we don't control them.

Make they sense, may the

Wandering sing his song

Upon the black lake though 

Neither seen nor ever heard

Come around here.

It's the frogs and the

Dogs and the twigs and

The groans of the rubbing

Branches on each other

Dim dark pleasures.

That might be it, might

Be all that will come

Though the sun wrung

Grass dry in the cool

Of the tree's shade.

And yet it won't stop

Spinning, maybe will have

More to be heard to

Become recorded on

This beckoning paper.

So once again we let

It scrap, let the words 

Spill on the table with the 

Salt and the pepper in

A tired scuffle.

There is peaceful good

Intention, there is calm

And peaceful living,

There is trusting that the

Right way will emerge here.

The dramas and the visions of

Sweet earth built homes and

Communal feels both 

Real and the one spark that 

Leads to all things.

For a force on the

Wind draw is

Enough to lead me into

Another burst, another

Living, another me.

It's the way we can

Allow for greater forces

Than ourselves to shine

On through, speak to 

You and sweep away.

In the process something

Greater than merely

You is created and

That's worth all the

Wordless waiting 

Of the poets.