Your soul has eyes and ears of its own.
Your heart hears and sees what your mind seeks
when you deny yourself
of the world’s sights and sounds.
You hear the still small voice calling you,
calling you to follow
to where your eyes will be opened.
There, you see light,
so bright at first you think
you are in darkness, blind,
so you listen again.
You hear the heartbeat of love
echoing down the pulse of time
from eternity, and you follow
from valley to peak to source.
There you see the truth,
in all beauty, arrayed.
There you see the singer
of the echoing poem.
You see you are like Him.
You see you are not alone,
nor ever have been,
and the companion He made
of you to see that you are not alone,
to remember that He is with you
because she is with you, and echoing his love,
you repeat your poem in like manner as His:
At last, this is flesh of my flesh
and bone of my bones.