The Spirit Waits For Me
A poem of searching. For the Into the Woods prompt
Beneath the trees, in shadows deep,
The spirit waits for me.
I find a quiet hush so sweet:
The spirit waits for me.
In black and white and shades of grey,
I seek my deity.
I kneel on sacred ground to pray,
And seek my deity.
Decaying leaves beneath my feet lie black and wet and dead. Yet they convey eternity. They nourish life. The circle abides on and on, life and death and life again. Each leaf, each tree that falls yields new life.
Greys and greens and browns breathe all around, living, singing, praising. Lifting boughs to heaven and plunging roots to hell. I seek the life, the way, the truth. I want to know.
Beneath the trees, in shadows deep,
I find divinity.
I lift my hands and bow, entreat,
To find divinity.
And in the space between the shades
The spirit waits for me.
I tremble, but I’m not afraid:
The spirit waits for me.
