Smooth as silk
Fierce, sharp and cold
Shimmering, Colourful, Translucent,
A Mirror to all she knows,
Moulded by circumstance
While circumstance she moulds,
And the look of all she beholds...

Peaceful as air,
Violent as wind,
Like fire, she’s Merciless, Great but also Forgiving,
Alive though not living,
Defiant yet Listening.

She is Light as she is darkness
And she is thunder as she is Silence,
All are drawn to her, a Siren, Enchantress,
Intensely seen and heard and felt, yet alas!
to all, a ghost, long forgotten and past.

She, the Ephemeral Glimmer,
Our Hero, our Saviour our Martyr,
abused, neglected,
caged, disrespected, 
Yet Proud, Strong and Unfaltering.

She stands Eternal, Immortal,
Watching over us all,
Queen and Slave of the Living and the Dead.
 

The world is, and of it, I am.

Knowing this, the sky behind the
clouds is seen, the sun's colours
are most warmly felt,
And all the World is at Peace.

It is, because I know
And I know because it is
No need for rational thought
When what is plain is felt

It is not life that I have but
life that I am, and being this
most wondrous existence,
I Trust.
 

How they long for their big, bustling city!
Its crowds, the sounds,
the buses, trains, the cabs and trams,
the variety and colour of streets, the infinite shops, the choice of where to go,
the sights, the museums, the romance of night lights.
How every day is different, how varied the opportunities, the paths.

In my city,
the crowds fly and the sounds are melodies,
its inhabitants buzz, chirp, flow and hop by,
the streets divide into multitudes of colours and shapes, every inch as different
as two bricks are the same.
In the smallest of spaces there is infinity, and in the biggest, the choice of where to look,
and when the light shines, it fills the wholeness of space and the soleness of my heart,
the romance hidden in the little mysteries of a solemn sky.
How different each day is, how varied the opportunities, the paths!

Today I look upon that burst of pink,
the birth of buds,
the little droplets hanging from the pine leaves.
The branches, I notice, hang lower today,
the whiteness of the ground is of a different shade,
and while the birds sing as they did before,
I know their song is not the same.
The water that glides the surface of the stream is ever changing,
like the atoms that cycle in the dynamism of Life.

So I don’t long for my big, bustling city.
It goes with me wherever I go
Big as ever, no matter how small.
 

Open your eyes.
Listen.
Listen to the rustling leaves,
the sound of snow falling from the trees,
the gentle whisper of the stream.
The birds that sing their welcome!
That chirp in unifying peace.
Walking,
I hear the crunching of the snow beneath my feet,
among the little sounds that
awake the silence.

And around me,
the beauty of that white cover, so delicate,
so fine.
Though cold, it brings a warmth to the elements that
I can’t define.

So, while you complain about the cold,
the immeasurable horror of the inconvenience that is snow,
I beg you to reconsider with all that you know.
And indulge in this silent, liberating peace.

For in my heart lies the hope that one day,
you will open your eyes.
Awake from your dream.
And find Life
simply by listening to the wind.